Make Peace & Create Evil
by tonygirl
Summary: Anyone who knows a pilot - especially a Marine pilot - knows they invented the word 'arrogant.' But, sometimes, you have to look past all the bull. OC, although I doubt very many know who the REAL characters are. Rated T, mainly for language
1. Chapter 1

I do not own the rights to 'Black Sheep Squadron.' That honor goes to Stephen J. Cannell, writer & producer.

I grew up watching this show on syndication with my Marine Corps dad. As with most TV series, it pretty much stretches the truth. The real Black Sheep Squadron (which is still in existance, BTW, and is still VMF 214) did not have such easy access to nurses or any other forms of recreation as they did on the show. However, for the sake of pure entertainment, we'll pretend they did. And, I'm pretty sure the real Pappy Boyington did not have the most gorgeous blue eyes like Robert Conrad's. Oh, and Marine Corps pilots really are a bunch of cocky SOBs. That part, the show did get correct! Thanks for reading.

* * *

This beach was beautiful. Although she was thousands of miles from the country she called home – although no 'true' home awaited there – and smack dab in the middle of the Pacific sector of what had been called 'The Latest War to End All Wars,' she was content. The water was sparkling blue, the slight breeze bringing the waves ashore with a comforting whoosh. The sun was warm, it was her day off, she had a good book – what more could one ask for?

_Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,  
You do unbend your noble strength, to think  
So brain-sickly of things. Go, get some water,  
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.  
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?  
They must lie there. Go, carry them and smear  
The sleepy grooms with blood.  
_

MacBeth's lady always fascinated her. Although women were supposed to be the weaker of the two genders, this woman was quick-witted enough to have someone else framed for the murders in her household to save her family.

For some reason, she could never see herself doing that for her own fiancée.

Maybe that was something a wife picked up over the years. She hoped.

While Abby never wanted to be put in that particular situation, her level head and quick thinking had gotten her far indeed – graduating nursing school in Chicago at the top of her class, then just as meticulously rising to the top of the nursing staff at Chicago General, specializing in emergency trauma, a relatively new field in medicine. And all before she reached 30.

Although this side trip into World War II was inevitable – her father saw to that – at least it was a great learning experience. Vella La Cava was just a wee bit too far away from the bulk of the action, it was as close as the armed forces would allow female nursing staff – her father saw to that, too.

And if Abby were so inclined to think about it, her high-ranking Naval father still held a heavy hand in her life, whether she wanted him to or not.

But, today was too pretty for such serious thoughts.

Abby turned a page in her well-worn book, idly running her toes through the soft white sand, getting more of it on her towel than necessary, but not caring. Some of her dirty blonde hair had come out of her customary bun and was whipping around her face, and she had to keep brushing it out of her eyes. The raucous sounds of men at play – some volleyball game or other – carried along the winds of the beach, but she paid none of them any mind.

Until the ball plopped right into her lap, throwing sand all over her and her book.

"What in the _hell_?" She tossed her book aside, trying her best to wipe sand out of her eyes with hands that were just as coated. She jumped to her feet, the book and ball falling to her feet, the ball rolling away.

"She's mine! I saw her first! No, she's mine!" reached her ears.

_Pilots. Go figure._

And, it had to be pilots. Vella La Cava was home base for none other than the notorious Black Sheep of the US Marine Corps.

The best way, Abby knew from years and years of experience, was to meet them head-on.

"I do not belong to any of you, and as soon as I get this blasted sand out of my eyes, I'm going to make sure I kick someone in the _ass_!"

There were choruses of "Ooooo!" and "I'm sooo scared!"

Abby thought about informing the bunch that, despite her average size, she had three brothers that had taught her the art of self-defense, but decided against it. She might need that card one day and kept it close to her chest.

By now, her eyes were watering so much, she hoped to heaven these imbeciles didn't think she was actually crying.

"Here. Try this." His voice was deep as he pressed something into her hands.

_He'd make a good MacBeth. Or maybe Othello_.

Abby most certainly didn't express those thoughts either. As haughtily as she could manage in shorts and a tank top, tears streaming out of her eyes, she snatched it from him. A shirt. Definitely a man's shirt. It wasn't dirty, but it smelt most certainly . . . manly – soap with the faint smell of engine exhaust.

Not that she noticed or anything.

As she wiped her eyes, she tried to control her temper. _It was probably an accident, they couldn't' help it, yada, yada, yada._

Somehow, she doubted it.

And pilots always brought out the worst in her.

When she could see again, she hoped her eyes weren't as bloodshot as she was afraid they would be. Six pairs of eyes watched her, all clearly enjoying themselves. Actually, they were enjoying themselves so much, Abby had to restrain the urge to see if one of her boobs had popped out of her tank top.

Unceremoniously, she handed the shirt back to the one closest to her.

"You alright?" The same deep voice.

She looked at him. Actually, she looked up at him. He was a good several inches taller than her, clearly having a grand time at her expense.

_Be polite, he tried to help. Better than some of those yahoos ogling behind him._

"I've been better," she grumbled. It was the nicest comment she could manage out of all the ones floating around in her head. Plus, she was eye-level with his bare chest, and she wished he would put the damn shirt back on!

Of course, she'd never met a Marine that was out of shape, pilots included.

_Too bad Tony was a Navy paper pusher . . . oh crap, I shouldn't think that!_

He grinned at her, his dark eyes crinkling at the sides, almost as if he could read her thoughts. His dark hair was tousled from the breeze and probably from their rousing game of volleyball.

Abby knew from experience that pilots were a competitive bunch.

And this was most definitely a man who knew he looked good.

_Damn cocky pilots!_

She tore her gaze away from his chest long enough to give him what she hoped was a scathing look.

It didn't seem to faze him.

She bent over to pick up her book, wiping sand from its pages. However, she quickly stood back up amid catcalls and whistles from the men standing behind Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.

"Haven't seen you around here before, baby. You must be new."

She shot him a dirty look as she shook her book by the binder, more sand sprinkling onto her towel. "I've been here for weeks. And I'm not your baby."

"Seems to me she's someone's baby. Look at that rock." One of them, a rather surly looking fellow who was probably handsome if he remembered to smile, called out.

Abby glanced at the ring that had been on her finger for almost two years, two long years without a date set from either one of them. But she sure wasn't going to tell these . . . these _Marines_ that!

"So, baby . . ."

"_Captain_ Reilly to you, buster." Abby had finished shaking sand from her book and stood with her arms crossed protectively in front of her.

"Oh, wow, she's a captain!" Someone was definitely in awe. And, he looked like he was about 14 years old with his blonde hair and gangly limbs.

Man, oh man, the older she got, the younger they looked!

Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome rocked back on his heels, clearly amused. "A captain, huh? How do I know you're not just saying that? Your . . . ah . . . uniform seems to be missing its stripes." He eyed her bare legs and tanned arms.

There were sniggers all around.

Abby narrowed her blue eyes. "OK, buster, there's no need to get cheeky. I'm pretty sure I outrank you." She didn't usually pull the rank card, but this man and his minions galled her, to say the least.

He held up his hands as a peaceful gesture. "Sorry, _Captain_ Reilly. Wouldn't want to make you any madder than you already are. We just haven't seen you around, that's all. And we've . . . uh . . . seen all the nurses."

"I bet you have." Boy, did she know. Most of her fellow nurses spent more time carousing with this bunch of ruffians than they did working. Not that she cared. They tried to get her to come along at first, but when it became obvious she'd rather eat nails than hang out with pilots, they left her alone.

Most of them left her alone anyway. Friendliness was not an alpha trait of hers.

He cocked his head at her, his hair falling over his forehead. "How 'bout a drink?"

"It's not even noon!" Abby sputtered. She'd heard of their drinking escapades, legendary in the South Pacific.

More laughter all around.

He sidled closer, probably so his little friends couldn't hear.

Abby resisted the first impulse to step away from him. Towards safety.

Instead, she stood her ground, staring up into his face. The first thing she noticed was his five-o-clock shadow, and she wanted to tell him to step closer to the razor next time he shaved.

But, from what she heard, shaving was low on the totem poll for the Black Sheep of VMF-214.

He smirked at her. "Now, later? Who cares? Come over to the Sheep Pen, and we'll see what's on tap."

He sounded so sure of himself that Abby rolled her eyes skyward. She'd heard notorious stories about that place, and she'd rather keep it that way – just stories. "I know my peers have tried to prove otherwise, but you and your friends here," she tossed a hand in the general direction of the remaining bunch, making sure she spoke loud enough for all of them, "are _not_ God's gift to women. Me, included. I will not now, nor will I ever, go with any of you _anywhere_." Now, her anger was trying to get the best of her. But, she was better than that. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Uncertainty danced across his dark eyes, and Abby dug a little deeper. "Oh, never been rejected before in front of your pals, huh? Well, buster," she pointed at him for emphasis, "you've just ruined my peaceful morning, and I don't appreciate it."

"That's _Lieutenant_ Anderson to you." His voice was a tick colder than it had been.

OK, she had that coming. And, it _was_ nice to know she outranked him.

She'd managed to avoid the lot of them so far since she'd been on this island, and she preferred to keep it that way. In one swoop, she reached over and picked up her blanket and book, turning her back on them to stomp away, not quite convinced she had gained the upper hand.

But, she smiled wickedly when she saw it, not two feet from her. Deftly, she kicked the volleyball, which soared in the air and landed in the surf, perilously close to floating away.

With a toss of her head, she stalked down the beach. There. That showed them. Now, maybe they'd leave her alone, and she'd finish out her little stint on this island in relative peace.

She could feel their eyes on her, but she didn't care. However, when she got out of sight, she sighed.

Why did pilots always get the best of her?

* * *

"Well, I'll be a sonovabitch," Captain Jim Gutterman took off his ever-present cowboy hat and ran his hand through his thick hair. "I don't think she liked us too much. Hey, Casey, it's going the other way!"

They were glad to let the young lieutenant go after the ball before it drifted out to sea.

"Can you blame her much? I mean, Bobby practically threw the ball at her, and she'll probably have sand in her eyes for a week." T.J. Wiley didn't like to be picked on, and he had a tendency to take up for those who did.

"I did not!" Anderson protested, still watching her stalk down the beach.

"So, the old charms didn't quite work like you thought they would, huh?" Jerry laughed, totally amused with the situation. He agreed with T.J. The broad should have fought back.

Anderson really seemed at a loss. "Probably a boring stick in the mud anyway. Did you see what she was reading? _Macbeth_." He said it as if it were a mortal sin, shuddering as he said it. He would never admit to these guys that he'd read _Macbeth_ and rather liked it. Better keep that to himself.

"Oh, Lord forbid women have brains," T.J. rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Well, this one had brains and an attitude the size of Texas," Boyle added. He caught the soggy ball as Casey tossed it to him, not letting his short stature hinder him from making a general pest of himself during the volleyball game.

Gutterman smiled. "Whatta ya say we teach her a lesson or two? Bring her down off her high horse?"

"Uh oh. I don't like the sound of that," Casey said, wringing out his shirt.

"Me, neither," T.J. muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

Let me correct my facts just a wee bit. According to the people's sgt, the current Squadron is VMA-214 out of MCAS Yuma AZ flying  
Harriers. Thanks :-)

* * *

"Abby, hon, you've _got_ to loosen up!" Donna teased her hair in the small mirror they shared in their room.

Abby flopped across the bed. "I will not be ogled and leered at in public when I was minding my own business!"

Donna, finally happy with her blonde locks, turned to face Abby. "So you're going to sit here and tell me that those fine specimens of manhood did not do anything at all to you? _Anything_?"

"I'm an engaged woman," Abby sniffed, not about to admit that Lieutenant Anderson set her heart to racing. But only for a moment. She glanced at her photo of her finance of two years and counting, Tony Ginsburg, who had not made her heart flutter in a really long time. And didn't look half as good shirtless.

_Sorry, Tony_.

Donna rolled her eyes. "Oh, I forgot. You're up for the virgin Mary in the Christmas play."

Abby ignored the snub. It was tame compared to some comments she knew the nurses said about her. And she really didn't care. Honestly. "They're trouble with a capital T, Donna. I'm warning you, be careful."

Donna never was one to pay attention to advice, especially about men. "Oh, pooh. Jim wouldn't hurt a flea."

Abby rolled on her back and studied the cracked ceiling of the humid room. "Which one is he?"

"Probably the one in the cowboy hat with the turned up sides."

"Oh, you mean Mr. Surly?"

"What?" Although medical terms didn't bother Donna, anything other than that stumped her.

Abby rolled onto her stomach. "He scowls a lot."

Donna brightened. "Oh. But, it's sexy."

"Whatever."

Donna really did like Abby, and she didn't want her to stay by herself in the little room. "Oh, c'mon, Abby. Come with us. It'll be fun!"

"I have duty tonight." Good. A real excuse to avoid the lot of them.

Donna's face fell. "Oh, well, maybe next time."

Abby didn't correct her friend – there would be no next time - just allowed her to think what she liked. She was glad Donna was her roommate, but her constant man craziness drove her a bit mad at times.

As soon as Donna flounced out, perfume in her wake, Abby rose, grumbling, and put on her uniform. Head Nurse Arant was strict about appearances, even if there was no one in sick bay.

She studied herself in the mirror. Hair somewhere between brown and blonde, blue eyes, nothing special. Her brothers sure never let her think so, nicknames such as Stick Legs and Frog Face being their favorites, even now that they were all big shot pilots.

They loved her. She would never doubt it. They were just big brothers, that's all.

And, they sure would have hated those Marine pilots! Probably taken them out a notch or two for her behalf.

The thought made her smile.

Abby's eyes fell on the picture of the four of them, taken last time they were all home. Almost one year ago. Kevin was now stationed in Germany with the Army, and the twins, Jimmy and Johnny, were actually somewhere in the South Pacific with the Navy. All pilots. Just like their father. Kevin recently made ace status, downing five enemy planes for the honor. Abby had a sneaking suspicion the honor wasn't all it was cracked up to be, based on her brother's letters.

Abby prayed for them every night. Just because she was raised with soldiers and war didn't mean she liked it.

* * *

She hadn't been in sick bay for fifteen minutes when someone came running into the room, almost making her drop her clipboard in surprise.

"Captain Reilly! Captain Reilly!" He was out of breath by the time he reached her, half-saluting, his nails and fingers stained with grease.

"What is it, Sergeant?"

She saw the patch. _Great, another Black Sheep_. But, this was business. Animosity had no place, and this man was upset.

"Captain, it's Bobby! He's done passed out in his tent and won't wake up!"

"Is he breathing?"

"Yeah, but he won't wake up."

"Drinking?"

"I've seen him drink more and fly circles around those Japs. Said his head was hurting or something."

"Let me go find Dr. Reese . . ."

The sergeant startled her by grabbing her arm. "Now, you've got to come now!"

That's all she needed. A trip to 'Black Sheep Land'. But, Abby quickly dismissed those thoughts, actually feeling a little guilty. Someone was sick, and she had to help. "Alright, alright. Let me get my bag."

He hopped around on one foot, then the other as she quickly gathered her medical bag. Practically rushing her out the door, he ushered her into the passenger side of the jeep and took off before she was settled.

The short ride to their camp went by quickly at the breakneck speed this sergeant was taking. If they could hear her over the sound of the engine, she almost asked him if he expected the jeep to take flight like those crazy Corsairs that buzzed the island constantly. But, it was all she could do to hold on.

If she was a bettin' woman, she'd have bet this Bobby fellow had drank too much. It was dusk, after all, and they started drinking way earlier than that, from what she heard. Of course, if she had to do what they did in those planes everyday, she'd probably drink like a fish, too. But, she'd never admit it to them.

There was a small crowd gathered around one tent. Unfortunately, she recognized a couple of their faces from the beach. But, this was business. She nodded once in their direction as this sergeant helped her from the jeep.

"Bobby's in there, Captain. You've got to do something!"

"I'm sure he's just drunk . . ." Abby still hesitated, bag in hand.

"Just go in there! Please!"

They were all looking at her hopefully, so she shook her head, gathered her medical supplies and ducked into the tent.

It was definitely a man's tent, clothes tossed about, cards laid haphazardly on makeshift table. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and settle on the still form on the messy cot.

Great. This Bobby was none other than Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.

Business. This was just business. He was sick or something, although he didn't look sick, and she was the only medical personnel that wasn't out partying, so this was just business. Diagnose him and run like hell.

There was a rustle outside the tent, but she ignored it as she settled on her knees. "Lieutenant? Can you hear me?"

No response. She leaned in closer and sniffed. Liquor. Definitely liquor. But, she had to be sure. Didn't want a Black Sheep to croak on her watch.

Pulse seemed normal, maybe a little elevated. Blood pressure a little high, but that was to be expected with all the booze and who knew what else.

She huffed a strand of hair out of her face.

Maybe there really was something wrong with him.

Sure, she didn't like pilots, more specifically _these_ pilots, but that didn't mean she wanted something to happen to them.

Everyone was still outside the tent, watching. That's all she needed. An audience.

She really needed to find Dr. Reese. But, first, she leaned in close to pull back his eyelids and check for a response.

Before she realized what was happening, Bobby had her, his strong arms pulling her against him.

"Eeeeep!" was all she could manage before his mouth was on hers.

She didn't have a chance.

Surprised didn't even begin to describe what she was feeling. When she got over the immediate shock of being . . . being attacked, she fought in his arms, against the feel of his lips, his tongue forcing her own lips apart, _oh my God, what was he doing?_ –

For one tiny moment, she almost went with it.

_Wait, fight him, Abby, fight him like hell! He's taking advantage of you!_

Anger surged through her like a fire. So, she did the one thing she could think of.

She bit him.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" His hand went to his bottom lip. And, he let her go.

"Now you really need a doctor, don't you, you sorry piece of cow shit!" Living in a household of men brought out the worst in her profanity, much to the chagrin of her refined mother. But, boy, it sure came in handy now!

"What's going on here?"

Abby whirled around. This new face, a major judging from his dirty uniform, was given plenty of room by the snickering men surrounding him. "This . . . this man attacked me!"

"Seems like you enjoyed it to me," Anderson drawled from behind her. Abby stared at him, wild-eyed. He was actually laughing at her, bloody lip and all!

She lunged at him, fully intending to claw his eyes out. But, firm arms grabbed her, held her off the ground.

"Let me go!" She wriggled in the major's grasp. "All I wanted was to be left alone, and these, these cretins drug me into their, their dirty, rotten, filthy . . ."

"OK, OK, we get it." Although the major was about her height, short by most standards, he was well-muscled. "Now, tell me what happened." There was a general rustling behind them. "And you cretins, don't move."

"OK, Pappy."

Through her anger, it registered that none other than Major Greg "Pappy" Boyington was keeping her from ripping someone's eyes out with her own bare hands.

Her brothers would be impressed. Hell, _she_ was even a little impressed!

"Now, what happened?" His voice was cool, calm, collected.

But, it didn't calm her." All of them were in on it. That one," she pointed at the skinny sergeant who was slinking into the darkness, "_tricked_ me! He told me this man was _sick_! Brought me all the way out here from the hospital saying this creep wouldn't wake up."

"Is this true, Hutch?" Boyington asked gravely.

"Hell, they paid me five bucks!" Hutch tried to argue, slinking away at his superior's expression.

Abby kept sputtering. "They get me in here, all watching, then he _attacked_ me. All because I kicked their stupid ball into the water!" She was getting hysterical and struggled in Major Boyington's grasp.

"Is this true, guys?"

She heard the group of them behind her agree with "Yeah, Pappy" and "Sort of, Pappy."

"What about you, Anderson? This true?"

Anderson actually looked sheepish, still trying to stop his lip from bleeding. "Uh . . . yeah, I guess."

"You _guess_?" Abby almost screeched. This time, Pappy let her go. She almost fell to her knees, but caught herself just in time to close the distance between her and Anderson and sock him in the nose.

He staggered back, his hand going to his face, almost as if he didn't believe what she had done. But, when the pain hit him, he knew. "Ow! Ow! _Ow_!"

There was a collective gasp from the bunch behind her, and Major Boyington actually laughed out loud.

"You deserved that, Anderson," he chuckled. "Best show I've seen all week!"

But Abby ignored them, not feeling the least bit grateful that the major had taken up for her. Picking up her scattered medical supplies and tossing her hair over her shoulder, she flounced by Pappy and his Sheep, straight to the jeep. Although it technically belonged to the pilots, she took it anyway, cranking it and throwing it into gear expertly, then throwing gravel into the air as she sped away, tears stinging her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Thankfully, it was quiet back at sick bay. No one knew she was gone. Which was fine with her. She had to take a minute to compose herself.

Just when she thought she had controlled her anger, it would hit her all over again.

_That dirty, rotten piece of . . . no, no! Don't think about it!_

But, she couldn't help it. Her heart was still pounding like a jackhammer.

_How dare they do that! Make fun of me! Attack me like that! They're nothing better than. . . than animals, that's what!_

She flexed her hand, for once grateful that if anything, her brothers taught her how to fight, how to stand up for herself. _That'll teach 'em all! Don't mess with Abigail Reilly, boys!_

The look on Anderson's face after she socked him was priceless, and Abby couldn't help but smile to herself as she resumed inventory. But, then, that led to thoughts she didn't want to contemplate: his arms around her, his lips on hers . . . damn!

What was she _doing_?

He had _tricked_ her, and she was getting all gooey about it! Jeez, get a grip!

So, she pushed it out of her mind. It was a quiet night, crickets chirping just outside the door, helping her to relax.

She was actually humming to herself as she counted tongue depressors when there was a knock on the door behind her.

"Yes?" she turned, putting her pencil behind her ear.

It was none other than Major Boyington himself.

Abby rolled her eyes. "What do you want . . . sir?"

His blue eyes danced merrily at her reaction. "Pretty good right hook there, Captain Reilly. Couldn't of done it better myself."

Abby put her hand on her hip. "Well, if you came here to congratulate me on my fighting prowess, you did. Can I help you with anything else, sir?" For some reason, she wasn't as angry as she thought she'd be. Boyington's calm demeanor had that affect on her. Probably what made him a good leader. If he could get a bunch of ruffians to toe the line long enough to be the best fighter battalion on the Pacific, then he couldn't be all bad.

"Just hold your dander," he held up his hands. "I have someone here that wants to talk to you."

When Jim Gutterman stepped out of the shadows, Abby's anger returned despite Boyington's influence. "I have nothing to say to you." She shot him a look of steel. Her "officer" look.

"See, Pappy? I told you."

"You apologize to her, Jim, or I'll make your life a living hell. And you know it."

Jim sighed hugely, looking resigned. "I'm sorry we tricked you into coming out there." It tumbled out in a monotone voice.

Abby wanted to tell him to take his half-assed apology and shove it, but decided against it. Better to get this over with. She crossed her arms in front of her and nodded once. "Apology accepted."

"But, if you hadn't been such a hard ass on the beach . . ."

"Jim." Pappy's tone warned.

"Fine, fine, whatever. Sorry."

Pappy nodded. "Good. Get back to camp. Take her jeep back with you."

"Where's Donna?" Abby couldn't help but ask. She hadn't even thought about the other nurses, let alone her roomie, but the idea of them knowing what happened to her was embarrassing.

"She's at some bonfire on the beach with some Navy boys. They docked on the other side of the island yesterday." He seemed unconcerned. He wasn't as serious about Donna as Donna was about him, apparently.

Or, maybe not. Her roommate was off with some Navy officers, anyway.

Boyington studied her. "I need to ask you a favor, Captain Reilly."

"That's great. You get me a half-assed apology, and all the sudden, I owe you." She tapped her clip board against her thigh annoyingly.

"Boy, Jim was right," But, he smiled when he said it, so she didn't take offense. Although she probably should have. Probably had something to do with the merry look in his eyes. "No, I just was wondering if you had made any report about this incident to Major Arant?"

Abby cocked her head. "You're not afraid of her, are you?" The head nurse was a hard nose, to say the least, but the idea of Boyington being scared of a woman in corrective shoes was a little hilarious.

He actually looked contrite. "No, it's just that . . . well, we don't need any more bad press than we already have. You see, Colonel Lard is out to get us, and well, this incident would not look well in his already thick report against us."

Abby sighed. "Look, Major Boyington . . ."

"Call me Greg."

"Fine. Greg. I don't make it a habit to run to my superiors on issues I can take care of myself." That was a throwback from having a high-ranking father. She and her siblings learned to take care of themselves early on, not wanting his influence in their everyday lives. "Plus, I think your Lieutenant Anderson won't try it again anytime soon."

Boyington actually looked relieved. "That's good to know, Captain. And, I promise it won't happen again. Plus, I didn't think Anderson wanted it on record that a small slip of a woman like you got the best of him"

"Lord forbid his ego take a beating. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work." She pulled the pencil out of her hair and put it to her clipboard, ready to be left alone.

Boyington grinned. "I believe your excitement for the night isn't over yet, Captain. It seems you have a patient."

"Who . . ." It hit her. "Oh, _no_! Not in a _million_ years!" She protested as best she could. To no avail.

Boyington stuck his head out the door. "Anderson. It's your turn."

Abby threw up her hands in complete disgust, tossing the clipboard on a table with a loud clatter.

Anderson slunk into the room, and Abby almost laughed aloud despite her annoyance. Between his busted lip and his obviously broken nose, he looked like he had lost a barfight with a larger man.

"First, what do you say, Lieutenant?" Boyington sounded like a patient father instead of a commanding officer.

"Sorry about this evening, Captain. It won't happen again."

Abby was so exasperated with the way this day had turned out, she couldn't manage a comment. She just pointed at a nearby examination table.

Anderson took his cue and slumped over to the table and collapsed onto it, throwing his arms over his eyes.

Boyington crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb, clearly ready for the show.

Abby would give him no such pleasure.

She gathered what little supplies she might need, but there wasn't much to be done for a broken nose. But, she took her time, giving her enough to gather her wits about her. He was watching her, his dark eyes on her back. She just knew it.

She dumped an armload of items next to Anderson. "Sit up, Lieutenant. You actually don't think I'm going to lean over you again, do you?"

She heard Boyington snicker.

Anderson sighed and struggled into a sitting position. "I said I was sorry, didn't I?"

His eyes were already turning black and blue from his broken nose, and he was obviously in some pain. But, Abby didn't care. Although as a nurse, she probably should have. She leaned in close with a penlight she fished out of her smock pocket. "Oh, sure, it just makes it all go away, doesn't it? Follow this light with your eyes."

He did as he was told. When Abby was satisfied, she got out some alcohol. "Now this might sting a little . . ."

Anderson jumped when she touched the soaked cotton ball to his split lip. "Son of a . . . ow!"

She took some satisfaction in his discomfort, then quickly quieted those thoughts. That was no way for a nurse to think! "I don't think you'll need stitches."

"It's not fair," he blurted out as she examined his nose, leaning in close.

"What's not fair, Lieutenant?"

"Well, for starters, your hand. It's not even bruised!"

She wasn't about to tell him that it was sore as hell. "Don't tighten your fist up too much. And make sure to hit with the knuckles. Plus, you deserved it."

He shifted uncomfortably at her close proximity. He could smell her perfume, something like vanilla. It smelt homey, like a woman who should be at home baking cookies. Not on this island beating up men twice her size. "It's still not fair."

She leaned back. "Well, picking on a woman who's half your size isn't fair, either, so I guess we're even."

"No one said you could fight like a champ."

"Well, you never asked. Just proceeded to treat me like all the other little chippies you're used to dealing with."

Boyington started to laugh, then covered it with a cough.

"Who taught you to fight like that, anyway?" Anderson asked her, as she readied alcohol in a bowl.

She almost told him it was none of his business.

"I have three brothers. Three older brothers. I learned at an early age to fight like a man if I wanted to survive in that household." Abby focused on what she was doing to keep from letting her exasperation get in the way of her duty.

"They'd kick my ass if they knew what I did, wouldn't they?" Anderson actually sounded contrite.

"If you're lucky, they won't show up here. Although it's possible."

"What do you mean?"

"They're pilots. Navy pilots. Two of them. The other is in Germany right now. He's an Army pilot."

"Well, I'll be."

"It runs in the family. My father is . . . in the Navy, too." That was close. She usually didn't bring that little nugget of information up. Ever.

But, Boyington's gears were turning. "Admiral Whitman Reilly is your _father_?" It was the first time Boyington spoke.

Too late. "All my life."

Anderson was none too happy about that little bit of news. "Oh great. Just _great_! First, Jim talks me into this stupid scheme, and come to find out, her father can have my head on a platter with a snap of his wrist. If her brothers don't get me first." Anderson had had better days.

"Oh, I'm sure Jim didn't have to do much coaxing," Abby muttered. "Now, be still."

Anderson kept talking "At least I know now to leave you alone. I'd rather sleep with a timber rattler."

Abby could have made this a little gentler, but, his comment infuriated her. She grabbed his broke nose between her thumb and forefinger and twisted it none-too-gently. It snapped into place in almost an instant.

Anderson yelped as Boyington laughed aloud.

She leaned in close to his face. "Next time, let the timber rattler set your nose."

* * *

"You look like shit, Anderson," Don French said as he stuffed a mouthful of powdered eggs in his mouth.

"Well, I feel like shit." His nose was taped and hurt like hell. "Now, shut up and pass the ketchup."

French dutifully handed it over.

"Serves you right, you know, for messing with a helpless woman," T.J. added as he pushed the blonde hair off his forehead.

"No one asked you, T.J. And that woman is far from helpless. I'd rather face an attack from a fleet of paratroopers than her. As far as I'm concerned, if I never see her again, it will be too soon."

"Did she really have to set your nose last night?" Casey asked, wide-eyed. He didn't agree with what they did either, but no one asked him, so he kept his comments to himself. He knew what it was like to be teased, often the butt of the camp's jokes.

Anderson grimaced. "She enjoyed it, too. That woman loves pain."

"Well, for your information, none of the nurses are willing to see us now. It seems little Miss Priss has made quite an impression with her friends." Jim was none to happy about that. Donna had proven to be a good diversion.

"You deserve that, too," T.J. said righteously.

"Oh, come off it, T.J.! It's not like any of them were beating down your door, anyway." Jim answered.

"You know, one good thing has come of all this," Anderson added, fork in mid-air.

"And what in the world is that?" Jim asked.

"I can't taste this God-awful food!" Anderson dug in gleefully.


	4. Chapter 4

Although Abby didn't consider herself close to the other nurses, many of them commented on what happened the night before, applauding her for standing up for herself. Even Donna was giving Jim the cold shoulder. Never big on camaraderie, Abby found herself surprised she had more friends than she thought.

Major Arant heard the scuttlebutt, but when she questioned Abby, Abby claimed ignorance. She hated to lie, but as far as she was concerned, she was ready to let sleeping dogs lie and get on with her life. That did not include anyone with the Black Sheep.

She kept to the side of the beach she was sure none of them ever ventured to. And when she wasn't working, she kept to herself, minding her own business.

So, it surprised her when a week later, there was a knock on her and Donna's door. Abby was writing a letter to her parents.

"Come in," she answered absently. Probably one of the nurses wanting to return some outfit or other of Donna's. How she managed to get all of them shipped to this island, Abby never knew.

"Just lay it on the bed." Abby didn't even look up until someone cleared their throat. Definitely a man.

Her head jerked up, and she was glad she still wasn't in her robe. "Can I help you?"

He looked mighty uncomfortable and jammed his hands deep into his pockets.

Abby recognized him as one of those infernal Black Sheep from the beach, one of them that looked about 14 years old. . Her blue eyes narrowed. "If you're here to trick

me . . ."

He looked mortified. "I had nothing to do with that! I told them it was a bad idea, and they should have left you alone!"

He sounded too sincere to be lying. Some of her animosity faded. "Fine. What can I do for you, then?"

He looked at her and smiled hesitantly. "Word has it that you don't want to have anything to do with pilots."

"Damn straight," Abby answered without the hint of a smile.

"Well, I'm Lieutenant T.J. Wiley." He held out his hand.

Abby rose from her chair and reached across her roommate's bed to take it. "Nice to meet you Lieutenant Wiley. But, this is kind of a strange conversation. No offense, of course."

He colored. "Well, . . . ah . . . no, of course, none taken. It's just that . . . well . . ."

Abby waited patiently, wondering when he was going to spit it out.

Finally, he seemed exasperated with his own self. "Look, I was wondering if I could talk to you."

She was taken aback just slightly. "What about all your little Black Sheep friends and all the little nurses that flit around the lot of you? What about them?"

He ran his hand through his blonde hair nervously. "It's just that . . . well . . . with the guys, I have to put on this big front. And with the nurses, I have to pretend to be this big shot pilot."

Abby rolled her eyes until she saw T.J. was serious about what he was saying.

He motioned to her ring. "I figured since you were engaged at all and didn't want to have anything to do with us pilots that maybe I could talk to you. It helps to have someone to talk to, you know. It sounds weird, I know, but you remind me of my sister, and well, she's so far away, and I would just like to have someone like her to hang out with." He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and wouldn't quite meet her eyes.

Although it was probably the strangest request she had ever received, the comment about his sister softened her. While she could never see her three burly brothers needing a little nurse to confide in, she understood how it worked.

Sometimes, even surrounded by people, you were lonely.

"I have three brothers, too, you know?"

"Yeah, they're pilots, aren't they?"

_Anderson_. The thought that he was talking about her made her ill all over again, but she squelched it. Water under the bridge.

"So, tell me about your sister, T.J. Where're you from?"

* * *

Although Abby would never admit it to anyone, it _was_ comforting to have someone to talk to. It sounded strange at first, but T.J. had a point. It was the same with her. With the nurses, she always felt like she had to be aloof. After all, she had traveled her entire life from naval base to naval base, and never had any close friends. If she thought about it, she really didn't know how to make any. And, she didn't have to pretend to be the empty-headed, giggly female, either.

He didn't seek her out often, but when he did, they usually walked along the beach or sat outside the hospital and talked. Eventually, Abby figured out the timing. It was before he went on a mission. He never told her any details, and she never asked. But, he did tell her how hard it was to be accepted by the guys and how Pappy never quite seemed to have faith in him.

Abby commiserated with him. She knew all about pilot egos. She told him Pappy must thought he was good enough if he let him stay. As grudgingly as she had to admit it, the Black Sheep were legendary.

He always left in a better mood than when he showed up.

And she found herself scanning the skies on their return, counting planes as they flew over.

And hating herself for doing it.

* * *

"OK, T.J., tell me something?"

T.J., Boyle and Anderson were up to their elbows in grease, helping Hutch clean engine parts from their Corsairs. Pappy always said pilots gleaned more appreciation for their planes – and their mechanic – if they had to help in the maintenance.

"What's that, Boyle?"

"How in the world did you take up with that little hellcat captain?" He wiped his hands on a dirty rag nearby.

"You mean Abby?" T.J. said absently. He'd kept his friendship with her under wraps. For some reason, he didn't think she'd want the guys to know. But, it was a small island. They were bound to find out eventually.

"Yeah, I saw the two of you walking on the beach yesterday, thick as thieves." What Anderson failed to mention was his surprising rush of jealousy that he just as quickly squelched.

T.J. shrugged. "We're just friends, that's all. And, she's not a hellcat when you actually treat her with respect."

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Oh, so now we're taking dame advice from you, huh? I bet she is a wildcat in the sack." Not that he ever thought about it . . . a lot.

"She is _not_!" T.J. colored. "Not that I'd know. We're just friends. And she's engaged, remember?"

"Jealous?" Boyle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not on your life!" Anderson answered firmly. "So, tell us T.J. How did you tame her enough to 'be friends?'"

"For starters, I didn't treat her like some dumb blonde, then trick her and jump her." T.J. still was mad about that.

"Well, aren't you just Mr. High-and-Mighty today. And, I apologized for it!" Anderson's bruises had about faded, but the hit on his ego had not. And it didn't help one bit that he found himself admiring her figure as she walked along the beach with T.J.

There was no way in hell T.J. would tell these guys his real reason for approaching her. They'd label him a softee for sure. "She's smart and funny and kind of . . .well . . .easy to talk to. No big deal." He shrugged and returned to work.

"Hey, at least you know what'll happen if you don't treat her right, don't he, Bobby?" Boyle laughed.

"Would you shut up?" Anderson didn't like to be reminded of his past sins. Although it was no excuse, he was just pulled along with the crowd, and now that he had time to think about it, he was ashamed of what he had done. He'd like to make it up to her.

Not that she'd ever let him get close enough to her again. Unless he was in the need of her nursing skills.

Anderson brightened. That wasn't a half-bad idea.

Except, he hated pain. Maybe not such a good idea.

But, he'd find one eventually.

* * *

It was payday.

Abby always hated payday.

More money meant more drinking and partying, which inevitably led to fighting and carousing or some other nonsense like that.

Tonight was the best one the nurses had come up with yet. They were having a 'musical chair sleepover' with the Black Sheep.

Everyone who wanted to participate tied a scarf around their doorknob, which was the clue that someone was inside ready and waiting.

Abby rolled her eyes. The promiscuity didn't bother her – when people were in stressful situations, they needed to feel alive, needed something to forget about the life and death struggles they went through daily. That, she understood.

But, why did it have to be pilots?

Plus, she was engaged anyway. She glanced at the picture of her husband-to-be dutifully placed on her nightstand. She hadn't heard from him in two weeks. Not unusual, but he always dutifully wrote her one letter a week, and she dutifully replied.

Abby made a face as she carefully put the last of the red nail polish on her big toe. Tony hated red nail polish. Sat it made her look like a tart.

Well, hell, he was off in the states in his nice little safe desk job, wasn't he?

Wriggling her toes to get them to dry faster, she picked up the nearest book. _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ was one of her favorite Shakespearian comedies. She had her room to herself – she had told Donna in no uncertain terms would there be any musical chair sleepover in here tonight! – she had a relatively good steak at the officer's mess and now it was time for relaxation.

_Always easy to please. That's me._

She was so engrossed in her book, her feet propped on her bed, careful not to mar the drying nail polish, that when the door creaked open, she was startled. Donna could be rather forgetful and often made two or three trips back into the room before she was gone for the evening.

"Donna! You scared the crap out of me!"

But, it wasn't Donna.

It was none other than Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.

Although T.J. had tried to tell her Anderson wasn't as bad as he seemed, Abby didn't much believe it. She tried to tell herself her heart was pounding out of her chest because he had startled her. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Anderson, isn't it?" She tossed her book aside, knowing full well she remembered his name.

He was dressed rather jauntily in a Hawaiian shirt and cut-off shorts, complete with Army-issue boots and a cowboy hat. He smirked. "Never would have thought you for playing musical chair sleepover?"

Still lounging in her chair with her bare legs stretched out across the bed, she crossed her arms, blue eyes flashing. "Never is right. So, if you would, please leave."

Anderson looked around, ignoring her. "You know, I'm surprised. It's rather feminine in here. I'd of thought you for a whip and chain kind of girl."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

He almost told her he liked it loose instead of the fierce buns she always wore it in, but he stopped himself just in time.

"Since you don't even know me, I would assume you would stop your character assessment until you take the time. If I would let you," she quickly added.

He rocked back on his heels. "If you're not in this little game, then how do you explain this?" He opened the door wider, and she saw the jaunty scarf tied on the doorknob.

"Of all the insolent . . ." She jumped to her feet and marched by him, snatching it off the door knob as he laughed. She shook it at him. "Your bruises are about faded. I don't think you want anymore." She hoped she sounded as threatening as she could. _I'm going to kill Donna for this!_

He kept laughing, but held up his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, no! The guys enjoyed that _way_ too much!"

Abby tossed the scarf on Donna's bed and flounced onto her own, picking up her book, trying to place his accent. Definitely Yankee. New York, maybe? And, he seemed to be in a forgiving mood. "Well, now you know. So, go, vamoose, scram." She buried her nose in her book, hoping he'd take the hint.

But, he didn't. Of course. She never met a Marine that wasn't hard-headed.

Instead, he headed straight to her picture of Tony.

"This is the infamous finance, huh?" He studied it for a moment. "Kind of soft-looking, isn't he?"

"Give me that!" Abby snatched it from him. "He has a desk job and an active thyroid."

Wait a minute! She didn't need to offer any explanations! She stuffed the picture rather forcefully under her pillow – and out of his reach - to hide her discomfort.

Anderson grabbed the other empty chair in the room and swung his long legs around, straddling it. He rested his arms on the back of the chair, chin on top. "What's a fiery thing like you doing with a loser like that?"

She stared at him, mouth agape. "Since when have you become my fiancée police? My life is none of your business." She turned her back to him and picked up her book again.

"What do you see in him? Maybe you're so feisty, you want someone who's not? Is that it? Or maybe he's just really good in bed." He pushed his hat back on his head as he thought.

Abby almost tossed her book at him, but she rather liked it. Her father had given her a set of them many years ago. "Have you stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, sex isn't all there is to a relationship?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Seems boring to me."

Abby bit her tongue. Honestly, now that she had been away from Tony for a little while, he did seem kind of boring. Safe, but boring.

She whirled around in her chair to face Anderson.

"Well, maybe everything in life isn't buzzing around in hunks of metal shooting other hunks of metal from the skies. Maybe not everyone likes things like that."

"From what I gather, that's what your family does best."

Abby felt her fists ball up, but willed her Irish temper back down. Although it took everything she had. "I grew up military? So what? That doesn't make me a . . . a soldier!"

"I don't think anyone would mistake you for a soldier," he reached out and hooked his finger along the strap of her tank, running his finger along it for a brief moment.

His hands were rough from manual labor, and she felt it right to her toes. It was like fireworks went off in her head. No one, and she meant _no one_, had ever garnered that sort of reaction before just by touching her. Not even Tony.

Especially Tony.

"Earth to Abby." He waved his hand in front of her face.

_Damn it!_

Abby jumped to her feet to hide her embarrassment. "OK, you've insulted my character, my family and my boyfriend. I think you've had a very full day. Now, leave."

Anderson stood up reluctantly. "I get this feeling you don't like me very much."

"Oh, gee, hmmm, that didn't take a rocket scientist." She pointed. "Now scram!"

"Ok, Ok, scramming, ma'am!" He walked out the door and turned to say something else.

But, Abby shut it in his face. But, when she huffed and puffed and settled back in her chair, she couldn't concentrate on her book. Her mind wandered, and she found herself idly brushing her fingers along her shoulder where he had touched her.

This time, she did throw the book across the room.

* * *

Anderson had never had this much problem with a girl before. Hell, there were enough nurses on this island to keep him busy for months! And he didn't exactly want to get that close to her. Honestly. All he wanted was to soften her up a bit, to get her to laugh with him like she did with T.J., to see that smile light up her blue eyes.

Anderson thought about asking T.J. how he did it, but wisely changed his mind fast. It would be taken the wrong way, like he actually was interested in her.

And he wasn't. Not in a million years.

Why did she seem to hate all of them so much? They weren't all bad – a little rough around the edges, a little too boisterous, but nothing awful. She kept herself at arm's length, and he wanted to know why.

But, he liked a challenge. And Captain Abigail Reilly was as challenging as it got.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to localmp for the kind words! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

It had been a particularly hectic week. Fighting had shifted nearer to their little part of the world, and many of the ships in the area were dropping off their wounded. Sick bay was full, and Abby had seen enough jagged wounds and scars to last three lifetimes.

Not that the Chicago hospital was any better. But, that didn't make it any less tiring on the body and soul.

Abby took off the first day off she got to a spot T.J. had showed her.

It was a little lagoon, the water just as still and clear as any she had ever seen. Way off the beaten path near the other side of the island, it was surrounded by thick vegetation, and Abby made sure she wore her boots. Wouldn't want to surprise a sleeping snake. There was even a little natural beach, just large enough to spread out a blanket and relax. T.J. claimed not many on the island knew about it and would rather sit along the ocean. Honestly, Abby would, too. She always loved the ocean. Ran in her family.

But, she wanted to be alone. She was tired of people needing her: bandaging wounds, nightmares, psychological problems that were far beyond her nursing skills. And on each face, she saw one of her brothers. And it scared her.

Funny, no Army manual told how to deal with these sorts of issues.

She just wanted to sit on her blanket and read, soaking in the sun, the war seeming so far away.

The lagoon was just as deserted as she remembered it. Sweaty from her jaunt through the woods, she tossed off her clothes, glad she remembered to wear her bathing suit and splashed into the water. It was cool against her skin, and she swam for a moment before climbing out and plopping onto her blanket.

The sun felt luxurious on her wet skin, and she laid there on her stomach enjoying the moment. No head nurse to berate her. No patients to demand her attention. No nurses to sympathize with.

She buried her face in her arms and dozed.

* * *

Anderson had to admit, he was not unhappy to see her. Although he wanted to escape himself, just the sight of her laid out on that blanket - blonde hair fanned over her back, an obviously toned body basking in the sun – made him suddenly realize maybe he wanted company after all.

Lord help him, she'd been swimming, the droplets of water beading on her skin. Did this woman have any idea how beautiful she was?

He made as much noise as possible, shifting his homemade fishing pole onto his shoulder as he walked towards her.

But, she never moved.

* * *

She must have fallen asleep because when her eyes fluttered open, she was looking at the filthiest pair of boots she'd ever seen.

"Wha . . ."

Anderson squatted down to her eye level. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

She scrambled up, pulling the blanket around her. "How long have you been there?"

Always accusatory, this one. "Not long. Made as much noise as possible tramping through the woods."

She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. "Well, what are you doing here?"

Anderson sighed. He was a little tired of this game. "Look. It's a free, American-held island. I think I have every right to fish if I want without you being all up in arms."

Abby spotted the fishing pole in his hand and felt a little foolish. Certainly this man had better things to do than aggravate her.

He rose to his feet. "I'll go over there," he pointed to the other side of the small beach, "you stay over here, and do whatever it is you do, and we'll call a truce, OK?"

"Uh . . . right."

She watched him trudge only 10 yards away and settle down with his fishing pole. When she was sure he wasn't paying her any attention, she tossed on her shirt and shorts over her wet bathing suit.

He never even glanced her way, just sat there on a fallen log, elbows on both of his knees, staring at the end of his fishing pole.

Abby was a little ill at ease. Anderson always made it a point to bug the hell out of her, although she had only seen him from a distance since she slammed the door in his face – what was that? – last week?

She buried her nose in her book, hiding behind a borrowed pair of sunglasses. It allowed her to steal glances in his direction. He was obviously not paying her any attention, just like he said.

It wasn't like she really _wanted_ him to keep picking at her. Lord, no! But, as she studied him though her tinted glasses, she began to wonder if something was wrong. The end of the fishing pole would twitch on occasion, but he honestly didn't seem to be paying it any attention, although he tried to look like he was. With his chin propped on his hand like that, eyes hidden in shadow by that infernal cowboy hat, he looked almost . . . morose.

What the hell? She would use many adjectives to describe this man – boorish, uncouth, unseemly and annoying as all hell - but morose was not one of them.

And, just how did she think she knew him well enough to describe his character? The only times they had come across each other, he either aggravated the stew out of her or made her want to slug him.

She stared at the page, the same page she had been staring at for twenty minutes as she mulled over their situation. Honestly, she couldn't remember any of what she had read on the previous pages since Anderson had joined her on the beach.

Abby tossed the book aside. She could go swimming, but she wasn't planning on getting undressed again. He would most certainly comment on that!

For a moment, it was tempting, just to get a reaction out of him. He really just did not seem like himself.

Instead, she reached in her bag and pulled out a sandwich she had made earlier in the day. She looked up when four Corsairs buzzed by. Taking off, apparently. They'd been just as busy lately as the nursing staff, judging from the constant drone of engines.

Anderson didn't even move.

Unwrapping the sandwich slowly, she made her decision.

Before she changed her mind, she grabbed her bag with the rest of her lunch and closed the short distance between them.

He didn't even look at her as she approached, just kept staring out on the water.

Abby cleared her throat. She could see him mentally shake himself, glancing at her, shielding his face with his hand.

"Knew you couldn't stay away from me long." He smiled rakishly, but his heart wasn't in it, she could tell.

That thought was all that kept her from breaking his fishing pole over his head.

Instead, she took a deep breath. "I thought . . . well, I thought you might be hungry." She motioned around him. "I didn't see where you had brought anything, and I thought . . . you might want to share."

He actually seemed to brighten a little and patted the log beside him. After a moment's hesitation, she plopped down beside him, careful to keep a polite distance.

"So, what's for lunch?"

She was glad to see him show interest in something other than the end of his fishing pole. "Meatloaf sandwich. Leftover from last night. It tastes good with a lot of ketchup." Halving the sandwich, she offered it to him, and he took it gratefully, finishing it up before she was even halfway done with hers.

She rummaged in the bag with one hand and held out a box of cookies.

He almost took them from her, but stopped. "Oh, no, I couldn't. Those are . . . from someone at home?"

Abby swallowed her bite of sandwich. "My mother. She spends a small fortune keeping me and my brothers stocked with sweets." She pushed them on him, but he still looked dubious. "Really. I wouldn't offer if I didn't."

"I've never known you to be anything but blunt." He took the box, but only took three from the carton.

They finished eating in relative silence. Abby noted he left her most of the cookies as she took a few herself, closing up the box and putting it back in her bag. Thoughtful of him. Another trait she had not been aware of.

Abby moved from the log to the sand, leaning against the wood in a more comfortable position. "Fishing isn't so good today, is it?" It was a mundane statement, but anything was better than sitting here saying nothing.

He waved his hand. "I've seen them jumping about thirty yards offshore, but they never seem to come up this close."

Abby knew something he didn't. She thought about telling him about T.J.'s secret. "Come out here often?"

He joined her on the ground, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Sometimes. It's peaceful out here. You can almost forget . . ." He trailed off.

Abby didn't ask him to finish. "That's why I came out here, too. To forget."

He turned slightly to look at her. "I've heard the hospital's been swamped."

Abby shrugged. "Lots of casualties on that last transporter. Some Japanese Zeroes decided to kamikaze a Navy battleship about two hundred miles out."

"Heard about that." He lazily put his hands behind his head and scooted down against the log, pushing his hat down over his eyes, presumably for a nap. Abby assumed their conversation was over and wondered if she had been dismissed. But, it was so quiet out here, the water lapping on the beach softly, the sound of birds in the forest nearby. Moving back to her towel seemed like too much of a chore.

"So, how do you do it?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, finding herself dozing. "Do what?"

He pushed his hat back, so he could see her. "Deal with what's going on back at the hospital?"

She stretched. "I've seen worse."

"Worked in many wars there, babe?"

"No. And, I'm not your babe," she said frostily. "I'm head nurse at Chicago General back home. Emergency medicine. New field."

He whistled softly, not deterred by her comment. "I guess this is tame stuff, then."

She shrugged. "Bar fights, car accidents, gunshot and stab wounds. You've name it, I've seen it. But this . . ." she motioned with her hand, "this is a little . . . different."

"How so?"

She bit her lip, thinking. "People will always have their little fights and struggles within their own lives, and it rarely reaches out and touches very many others. But, this . . . this war, affects so many. And sometimes, one death doesn't seem to . . ." She clamped her lips shut. No use telling him her own morose thoughts.

"Doesn't seem to matter one way or the other," he finished. "The world keeps going despite the death of brave soldier. Or pilot." He sounded almost a little cruel, sarcastic, even.

She sat up, her knees drawn up under her chin. At his bitter comment, she laid the side of her head on her knees to look at him. He was struggling, his inner turmoil obvious, even to her.

"What's wrong?" she blurted out without thinking.

"Nothing." He answered too quickly.

"Oh, c'mon! You've been sitting out here staring at your fishing pole like it might turn into a frog. Even if it did, I don't think you would notice!" She stretched her legs out, wriggling her toes in the sand, trying to figure out why she even cared.

"Oh, so you _were_ watching me! I noticed you didn't even turn a page for fifteen minutes!" His dark eyes regarded her playfully as he danced around the subject.

"Ooooo! You make me so mad sometimes! _All_ the time! Just forget I asked!" She started to rise, planning on stalking to her blanket and minding her own business for the rest of the afternoon.

Before she could even get to her feet, he grabbed her wrist, his touch once again erupting something inside of her.

"Wait! Don't go."

When she wretched her thoughts away from the feel of his hand on her arm, she looked at him. His exhausted eyes pled with hers. And, the tone of his voice touched her.

She huffed a strand of hair out of her face and flopped back on the sand next to him.

Neither one spoke for few minutes. Abby sensed he was grappling with what to say, and she was glad for the quiet to calm her nervous heart. He rubbed his hand over his face several times s they waited.

"Boyle and I went out on a mission this morning. Taking infrared pictures over a Japanese-held island. Looking for gun placements. Things like that." He spoke carefully, slowly.

Abby almost retorted that she knew why pilots were asked to do that sort of job, but bit her tongue. There was more to this story.

"Enemy fire was heavy from the ground, but we were flying just out of their range. We thought. Boyle was . . . was hit. Right in the fuselage. There was an explosion . . ." He choked up for just a moment, and Abby looked away, giving him time to compose himself. "I guess he was . . . well . . . gone before the plane crashed into the ocean. He never tried to parachute out." His voice faded away as he continued staring out over the water.

Abby wondered what to say. Her brothers never talked about this. Since she was a woman, they would just dismiss her questions as something she shouldn't worry her pretty little head about.

"There wasn't anything you could have done."

"Doesn't make it any easier," he answered in a clipped tone. She could see his jaw clench and unclench as he dealt with his emotions.

Abby stared out at the water with him, the sun glittering off the surface. She had never met Boyle, but until recently, she hadn't met any of the pilots.

This was how it always started. First, it was someone she had heard about. Next, it was an acquaintance. Then, it was a friend, and finally . . .

Anderson broke the silence. "It could have been me, you know. And, that was one of the first things I thought of as I watched his plane burst into flames. And that made me feel . . . guilty. That I'm so selfish enough to think that instead of about him."

Abby thought he really might cry, and she didn't know if she could handle his tears. It would be too . . . weird. "I think that's only human. But, it doesn't make you a bad person. If it were the other way around, I'm sure Boyle would be going through the same thing as you. Survivor's guilt."

He glanced sideways at her. "I know. I've gone through it before. Other pilots . . . friends. It doesn't make it any easier."

"I know."

They sat like that for awhile, staring out at the water. When Abby saw another fish jump, she remembered T.J.'s secret. He didn't want her to tell anyone about it. But, getting rid of that haunted look in this man's eyes was more important.

"Hey, come with me!" She jumped up and offered him her hand, hauling him to his feet. "Bring your fishing pole."

He looked a little uncertain, but complied.

It took Abby a moment of searching, but she finally found the copse of brush T.J. hid it in. She turned to look at Anderson. "You have to swear on all that is holy that you will not tell a soul about this."

Anderson shrugged, interested. "Fine by me."

"Swear?"

"Yeah, yeah, I swear. Now what do you have up your pretty little sleeve?"

She started wading through the brush, leaning down and giving something a tug. The tip of a small aluminum boat came into view.

"Oh, wow!" He waded through the brush and helped her pull it to the edge of the water.

She looked rather proud of herself. "It's actually T.J.'s. He traded some engine parts for some booze for this boat or something like that." She brushed her hands on her shorts. "That's why you can't tell him I told you."

"Oh, sure. Wouldn't want him to be mad at you or anything," Anderson sassed.

"Get a grip, Bobby," Abby sassed back. She reached for the oars. "So, you want to try it out? Or, do you want to stand here and be jealous?"

He thought he better help her before she did it all herself. The boat was light, and they had it in the water in no time. Abby jogged over to her blanket and grabbed her book, then splashed out into the water and climbed inside, grabbing an oar.

He scratched his head under his hat. "Uh . . ."

"Are you coming or not?"

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." Carefully climbing into the boat, he took the other oar, and they were soon off.

The lagoon wasn't very big, so they didn't have far to go.

Anderson raised his oar from the water, and Abby followed suit. He turned and looked around the boat. "Anchor?"

"Here." Abby shoved a cartridge box full of cement on a chain towards him.

"I guess you've done this before," Anderson said as he hauled it over the edge, trying not to sound bitter.

"A time or two," Abby said disinterestedly, balling her blanket up and putting it between her back and the boat. She picked up her book, and buried her nose in it.

Anderson realized he had been dismissed for Shakespeare. Shrugging, he picked up his cane pole and baited the hook, tossing the line out into the water.

It wasn't long before he had a bite. She looked over the top of her book at him as he hauled it inside the boat.

He was obviously pleased with the little trout. Abby couldn't help but smile at his boyish enthusiasm, their earlier conversation forgotten. "I was beginning to doubt your fishing skills."

He threw out his chest. "Never doubt a man's hunting and gathering instincts."

She rolled her eyes before returning to her book.

He caught several more as the afternoon continued, Abby making sure she made the appropriate comments.

During one lull, he sat his pole aside. "So, is this what you do with T.J.? You read while he fishes?" It was bugging him, and he had to know.

She glanced at him disinterestedly. "Is it really any of your business?"

He rolled his eyes. "I just . . . want to know."

She looked at him for a minute. "Well, yeah, sometimes. I read, and he fishes."

"Sometimes? What do you do the other times?"

It dawned on her. "You're jealous!"

"Am not!"

"Are, too!" Abby laughed.

He grabbed the fishing pole roughly and tossed the hook back into the water.

Abby realized she shouldn't have laughed. "Well, sometimes I fish, too."

He looked at her sideways. "You? Fish?"

With his five-o-clock shadow and handsome dark eyes focused on her, she almost ignored his comment. Almost. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I don't fish."

"Right," he even managed to look more handsome when he looked sheepish. "So, ever have any luck?"

She shifted against the hull of the boat, finding a more comfortable position. "Sure, but not as good as you." She motioned towards the rope that held six fish, several of them rather impressive in size.

"Thanks," he seemed to take her comment to heart, and it was cute . . . a little.

She returned to her book, and he returned to fishing.

"So, is that all?"

"Is that all what?" she idly turned a page, fully knowing what he was talking about, but making him sweat it out. She was always mean that way.

"You know, is that all you did out here? With T.J." He flicked the line back, hoping for another bite.

"Have you ever tried to have sex on a little boat, Bobby? It'll capsize before you finish."

Her comment garnered the appropriate reaction, and she laughed aloud at his shocked expression.

"I have three brothers, remember? Three _adventurous_ brothers. I've heard the stories, rather they're real or not. I imagine most of them are not."

Anderson let that soak in. "Soooo, you never. . . did anything with T.J. on this boat, then?"

She looked at him over the top of her book. "On the boat, no . . ."

He made an exasperated noise and looked like he was about to comment.

Abby interrupted him, sitting up and pulling off her shirt, tossing her book aside. "I'm going for a swim." Shimmying out of her shorts, she dove over the side before he could comment, careful to avoid his line.

Anderson fumed. She had avoided the conversation, he just knew it. He was almost pretty sure she had never done anything with T.J., but he wasn't one hundred percent sure. She wasn't that loyal to T.J., either. After all, she did show him this boat, didn't she? Even after she promised T.J. she wouldn't.

And just why did it matter?

He mulled this over while she splashed and dove, practicing her back stroke and breast stroke, her hair fanned out behind her, her bathing suit accentuating all of her . . .

"You're scaring all the fish," he blurted out.

She gave him a dirty look. "You've got plenty."

Anderson was in the mood to pout. "But, I was on a roll." He stood up and stretched, keeping an eye on his fishing pole.

"You can't eat all of those, anyway. Are you going to keep them all?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm going to keep them all!"

Abby dove, making sure she kicked water in his direction.

"Hey!" Anderson brushed at the water on his shirt.

Abby put both of her hands on the side of the boat, feeling bold. "What's the matter? The big bad Marine scared of a little water?"

She hit pay dirt. It was so easy with a Marine. She saw the annoyance in his eyes.

But, before he could formulate a comeback, she pulled the side of the boat down with a jerk. Anderson lost his balance and splashed sideways into the water.

He sputtered to the surface as Abby howled with laughter.

"You should have _seen_ the look on your face!" She laughed uproariously holding onto the boat to keep her head above water.

Anderson grumbled, grabbing his soaked cowboy hat from the water and tossing it in the boat. "How'm I supposed to explain this when I get back to camp?"

"It is Saturday! Bath day, am I correct?" Abby almost couldn't talk, she was laughing so hard. God, it felt good to laugh!

"Why you little so-and-so . . . I'll get you for this!" Laughing himself, he lunged for her, but she was faster, diving underwater and swimming around him, breaking the surface behind him.

They splashed and laughed, almost like two children with no care in the world.

At least, until the air raid siren pierced the air, two long blasts, followed by three short ones.

It wasn't an enemy attack. That was one long, continuous wail. Abby, trying to catch her breath, held onto the side of the boat as she tried to figure it out.

Anderson knew what it meant. "Oh, shit. I've got to get back to camp." He started for shore, but quickly turned around, treading water. "What about the boat?"

"Go on, go on," Abby said impatiently. "I can take care of it."

"Are you sure?" he looked dubious.

"Never doubt me, Bobby. I'm fairly able to take care of myself."

"That Tony'll have his hands full," he said, almost wistfully, then swam for shore.

Not even stopping to dump the water from his boots, he disappeared into the woods. Soon the siren stopped, too. All was quiet.

And, Abby soon regretted not having his help. Getting back into the boat was no problem., but getting the anchor up proved to be an issue.

Huffing and puffing, her legs braced on the side of the boat, she eventually hauled it up, collapsing in the bottom, nothing but blue skies above her. It was a peaceful scene while she caught her breath.

The roaring of engines soon had her searching the skies. Twelve Corsairs, the remaining ones on the island, came roaring overhead as she watched, eyes shielded against the sun. Abby would have sworn one of them dipped its wings in greeting to her. But, by the time she threw up her hand in reply, they were gone.

* * *

The fish were a problem. Abby didn't want to throw them back – Bobby was adamant about that. But, there wasn't much she could do with them, and she didn't know how long Bobby would be gone.

But, he seemed to look forward to eating them.

With a sigh, she lugged them from the boat, still on the string, and hauled them back to the hospital. After coercing the cook at the Officer's Mess with one of them, he agreed to fry them for her.

Abby borrowed a jeep to their camp. It was almost dusk. She briefly wondered what kind of mission would have the flying around in the dark – dangerous territory, to be sure, since it shouldn't even matter to her!

And, if they had left her alone on the beach a few weeks ago, she would still be thankfully oblivious!

She remembered which tent was his from their first 'encounter,' but tried not to think about that for many reasons. She sat the basket with the crispy, fried fish on his bunk, covered with a cloth napkin to keep the flies off it. Almost forgetting the note, she rummaged in her pocket until she found it, setting it on top.

* * *

Anderson was exhausted. It seemed he had been flying for days, when in reality, it was only a few hours. Their missions had been stepped up recently, but it still shouldn't affect him that way.

Probably Boyle. But, he didn't want to think about that.

If anything, this war honed their procrastination skills.

He pushed into his tent that he shared with French. The smell of fried fish hit him square in the face, making his mouth water.

"Hell, Bobby, didn't know we was havin' a fish fry!" French launched himself at the cloth covered basket.

"Stop right there!" Anderson bellowed. "I'll shoot you if I have to."

Since none of them had anything but field rations to eat, French didn't doubt he would. So, he stopped, but not before he picked up the note on top, "Lieutenant Anderson" written in flowery script.

"Oooo, looks like it's from a girl. It's not from that little brunette you've been seeing, is it? That girl looked too dumb to boil water."

Anderson snatched the note from his bunkmate's hand. "Gimme that, you creep." He struggled to remember the girl's name – Barbara. That's it. Barbara. Yeah, she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but she proved to be an entertaining bedmate. And, French was right. She couldn't boil water.

He tore into the note, swatting at French's hand as it slipped nearer the basket.

_Couldn't let these fish go to waste. And, yes there is one missing, but the cook demanded payment for his time. Hope your mission went well. – A_

Anderson couldn't help but grin. "I'll be damned," he muttered. "She really does like me."

French had read the note over his shoulders. "Didn't sound very lovey, dovey to me. Can I have a piece? Please?"

Anderson rolled his eyes, ignoring French's comments as best he could, although his friend was probably right. "Just one. A _small_ one."

* * *

Abby didn't hear from him the next day, but planes came and went all day long. But, after a rather long shift to allow other girls some time off, she stumbled into her room to find the basket and the well-laundered cloth napkin she had borrowed from the cook, folded precisely in the bottom. There also was a note – 'Captain Reilly' written boldly on it.

Abby flopped on her stomach on the bed, setting the basket on her nightstand in the process. Although she was utterly exhausted, she had to read this note before she went to sleep. With her head on the pillow, she tore into it.

_Thanks for the fish. Better than I could have done myself. French tried to steal half of them, so he wanted me to tell you he liked them, too. Hope your shift went well. – B_

Abby had to smile at the mirrored copy of her own note and the thought of Bobby trying to keep his friend away from his food. She went to sleep with that same smile on her face.

* * *

FYI, the show doesn't actually kill off Boyle. That was all me.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to all for the lovely reviews and messages!

* * *

"You didn't!" Abby tsked.

T.J. managed to look sheepish, handing her another shirt as she worked the only remaining washer on the island. All personnel had to share it until the nurse's washer was repaired. So, Abby found herself doing laundry in Black Sheep territory.

"I thought it was funny!"

"Well, obviously Casey didn't!" Abby turned the handle, squeezing the shirt out into the basket. She would most certainly be glad to have their washer repaired. Doing laundry was dirty business, and it made her look frumpy and sweaty.

Not that she cared, of course.

"I didn't mean no harm by stealing his shaving kit. Or short-sheeting his bed." T.J. moved the full basket of wet clothes and put another empty basket down. He liked having Abby's company while he worked, even if she did treat him like his mother would.

"How would you feel if someone did that do you?" Abby scolded, even shaking her finger at him.

He gave her his thousand-watt grin, but all she did was raise one eyebrow as she crossed her arms. "After all you have been through together, you're still going to treat him that way." She resumed her work, her arms aching from turning the damn crank.

T.J. tried to think of something to deflect her disappointment. "Well, that's not as bad as what Casey did to Bragg. Stole his girl, that's what."

"Doesn't sound like Casey," she muttered, half-interestedly. Unfortunately, she had gotten to know a few of the Black Sheep, at least through the stories from T.J.

"Well, it's true. Stole her right from under his nose!"

"I think . . ." Before Abby could tell him it was probably a bunch of bunk, the sounds of an argument quickly escalating to a full-blown fight reached the little tent that housed the washer.

Both of them looked at each other and bolted outside. Men were running them towards the sounds of the scuffle. T.J. and Abby followed.

Although they couldn't see who it was because of the audience, Abby could tell no one was doing anything about it. They were laughing and watching, and she could have sworn she saw a tall form taking bets.

Anderson. She should have known.

She bolted from T.J.'s side before he could stop her, elbowing her way through the crowd.

"Stop it, you two!" she yelled in her best officer voice, hoping that would work.

It didn't. Casey and Bragg kept wailing on each other, mostly Bragg punching Casey. And no one seemed to care.

"Oh for all the . . ." Abby dove right into the middle, worming her way between them, barely missing a blow from Bragg. "OK, you idiots! If you don't stop right now, I'll . . . I'll kick both of your asses!"

Bragg could smell blood, namely Casey's, and he wasn't going to let some little Army nurse keep him from it. With a snarl, he lunged again.

Abby went into survival mode. Although he was twice her size, she had training on her side. With one kick, she whirled around and hit him in the chest, knocking him flat on his back. With the air knocked out of him, he seemed ready to stop.

Casey lunged for Bragg, now that he was down.

Abby sensed movement behind her and elbowed Casey in the stomach, leaving him gasping.

Although the entire episode only took a few seconds, everyone was standing there with their mouths agape as she tried to catch her breath.

"What's going on here?" Boyington and Gutterman elbowed their way through the crowd, too. With one look at Abby standing in the middle of the two downed men, Boyington immediately grinned.

But Jim wasn't so easily entertained. "What the hell are you doing here? And just what did you do to these men?"

Abby snorted. "These two _men_, and I use that term loosely, were trying to kill each other, and your other _men_ weren't doing a damn thing about it." She glared at them all, and they managed to look hangdog.

Jim just returned her glare. "T.J., can't you control your woman at all?"

"She's not his woman, Gutterman." It was the first time Anderson spoke, his deep voice holding just the hint of annoyance.

"That's right. I'm don't belong to any of you," Abby's anger was getting the best of her, but the adrenaline was still pumping. She turned her anger on Anderson. "And as for you, Mr. Bookie, I'm think you ought to be drummed out of the Corp for making money on your fellow pilots." She motioned towards the money in his hands.

He had forgotten he had it. He put his hands behind his back in a hurry.

"OK, guys, back to work," Boyington said, shaking his head. He picked Casey up by the collar. "I want to see both of you in my tent, on the double." The crowd began to thin. "And, as for you, Captain Reilly . . ."

Abby turned to face the major, figuring she would be berated for not minding her own business.

But, Boyington just smiled. "I think if we dropped you on Tokyo, you'd take care of the enemy as soon as we could say 'Jack Robinson.' Especially if you'd break up a fight between two fully grown, angry men."

She tossed her head, blue eyes flashing, a little disappointed that he wasn't going to berate her. She was ready for a fight. "Well, someone had to."

* * *

Abby and T.J. finished the laundry in silence. Right until he loaded her share into her jeep. "I've got to know something." He seemed hesitant.

"What?" she answered in a clipped tone.

He scratched his head. "Just where in the hell did you learn to fight like that?"

"My brothers took kick boxing lessons. As a girl, I wasn't allowed. But, that didn't stop them from showing me the moves when they got home." Thank God for that.

"I've never seen anything like that before. Do you think you could teach me?"

"Not much room for a kick like that in a cock pit, don't you think?"

T.J. rolled his eyes. "Why do you have to be such a smart ass? I just think it would come in handy. You know . . . in a fight."

"If you mean a drunken brawl with your buddies, no, I won't teach you." She flopped in the driver's seat. "Honestly, I'm a little ashamed of what I did."

"Ashamed? Are you _kidding_ me?" T.J. knew these guys. They were impressed.

"I just can't help it sometimes. I see something that needs to be done, and I do it, despite what's good or not."

"Guess it runs in your genes, doesn't it?"

She shrugged. "Guess so. And, I'll teach you. If you promise not to start fighting like that just because someone calls you a name."

T.J. brightened. "Cross my heart. I swear."

"Sure you do," Abby laughed as she cranked the jeep. "See you 'round, Wiley."

T.J. watched her go, wishing she didn't have that infernal ring on her finger. And despise pilots, although he hadn't quite been able to figure out why.

* * *

Abby had just finished assisting in a rather tricky surgery when the telegram arrived. Not even bothering to change out of her bloody scrubs, she stared at it lying on her bed, just where Donna said it would be.

Telegrams were never good news. Ever.

Abby shut her eyes, willing it to be gone, a game she often played with herself when she was a child, reverting to that childish hopefulness that all the wishing in the world would get you what you wanted.

When she opened them, the telegram was still there. Of course.

Heart pounding, she reached for it, noticing the tremor in her hands.

* * *

"She won't talk to anyone. She won't even come out of the room. Locked everyone out." T.J. stared morosely into his beer.

Even Gutterman, never her biggest fan, managed to look concerned. "Which one was it?"

"Jimmy. One of the twins. Shot down not far from here yesterday in an ambush." T.J. took a large swig out of the glass.

None of them liked to discuss death. It rode with them daily, mocking them from their shoulders, whispering they were next as they engaged enemy after enemy. Most of the time, it was wrong. Some of the time, it was not, noted by their dwindling numbers and new faces.

"You tried to talk to her, too?" Bragg asked. Although she relatively kicked his ass, he didn't hold it against her.

"Wouldn't even open the door. Told me to go away. She's been that way since she found out this morning."

"Well, hell, if she doesn't want your help, she doesn't," Jim shrugged, taking a swing from his scotch. "Seems like a tough old bird, anyway. She'll probably come out of there tomorrow like nothing ever happened."

It hurt T.J. that she wouldn't talk to him. They were friends, after all. "Maybe so," he muttered, hoping Jim was right.

None of them noticed Anderson slip outside.

* * *

He didn't know why he was doing this. Most of the time, they fought. Except for that day at the lagoon. He couldn't stop thinking about it. They talked and played, almost like children. It was the most peaceful day he'd had since he'd been on this island.

And the fish, he couldn't forget about that. It had been a gesture of peace, he was sure of it. Although he hadn't seen her since the day of the fight.

Why did she always manage to catch him at his worst?  
And, why did it even matter?

Anderson had plenty to think about as he drove towards the hospital.

* * *

Some of the girls were whispering outside of her door when he arrived. Barbara was there and immediately latched onto him.

"Isn't it awful, Bobby?" she purred. "Just dreadful."

Anderson didn't pay her any attention. "Is she still in there?" he asked another girl, Maria, he thought was her name.

She looked at him with big dark eyes. "Won't talk to us. Won't let us in. Donna brought her lunch and supper, and she refused to touch it. Just sits there and stares out the window, Donna says. That's not . . .like her."

Anderson had to agree. He would have thought Abby was the toughest person on the island, all the men included.

That's would made it so scary.

He brushed Barbara off almost as if she were an afterthought, ignoring her gasp of surprise. "Let me try."

"I dunno . . ." Donna said. She knew what sort of rocky relationship the two of them had. "She's still mad at you for the bookie thing."

Anderson made a face. "Maybe that's what she needs. Someone to make her angry."

Donna thought about it, then shrugged. "Worth a shot."

The girls stepped back, Barbara flouncing away in disgust at being ignored.

Anderson stepped to the door and knocked.

"Go away." Her voice sounded small.

He knocked again, this time louder.

"I said, go away." She sounded angrier this time. Good.

"Abigail. Let me in."

There was a pause. "I see they've run out of friends to throw at me and are now down to enemies."

OK, that hurt. "You can't stay in there forever, Abigail. Let me in. Please?"

He heard shuffling, then all was silent. He huffed. What did he expect? He almost turned to go when the lock turned on the door.

With a shocked glance at Maria and Donna, who had equal expressions on their faces, he slowly turned the knob.

The room was dark, but he could barely see her, wearing nursing scrubs, sitting at her desk by the window, staring idly into the dark, just like Donna said she was.

Quietly, he shut the door behind him, not quite knowing what to do. He really didn't expect to get this far.

They stayed that way for several long, agonizing minutes.

"Why did you become a pilot, Bobby?" She didn't even look at him when she spoke, breaking the uneasy silence.

He cleared his throat. Strange question, but at least she was talking. "It was join the Marines or go to the New York State Pen."

"What did you do?" She still wouldn't look at him and seemed lost in her thoughts.

But, he answered her anyway. "I . . . uh . . . hotwired a sports car from a local dealer and took it for a joy ride. Wrapped it around a tree. Not my finest moment."

When she didn't comment, he didn't know what to say, just stood there with his hat in his hands, feeling like an idiot.

"Jimmy was the only one that really wanted to be a pilot. The other two just followed along because that was what Dad wanted, and plus, Jimmy was the oldest. By two minutes. They all wanted to be like him." Her thoughts were wandering.

Anderson moved closer to her and saw she was looked at something. A picture. A smiling Abby with three much larger, much taller men. Her brothers. They all looked happy.

Anderson couldn't help but wonder if that was the last time they were all together.

Now, it always would be.

"In a way, I guess I wanted to be like him, too. But, of course, I couldn't be a pilot. I had to settle for being a nurse." She half-laughed, fingering the picture in front of her. "Jimmy always said I would have made a better soldier than a nurse because I could usually wrestle them all at one time and win, but I always thought it was because they didn't give it their all. Me being a girl and their sister and all."

Anderson cleared his throat again. "I'll vouch for your toughness." His ego was still bruised over _that_ altercation.

Abby shook her head, almost as if she were saying, 'men.'

Bobby dove right in. "Donna says you won't eat."

Abby shrugged listlessly. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters. They'll all be gone, one by one. And, there'll be only me left. Unless some sniper or bombardier gets me, too."

Anderson thought about trying pity, but didn't think she'd take it well. He didn't think flowery words of comfort would go over well, either.

So, he tried another tactic. "You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for this gig, just like they knew what they were getting into. They saw it growing up, your father's pals who never came around anymore. No one explained it to you, but you knew."

Finally, she looked up him. She had been crying, the tears glistening on her cheeks in the soft light of the room.

His heart lurched in his chest. He never thought to see her like this.

"His wife's pregnant. My sister-in-law. Twins. They'll never know their father. He'll never ride them on his shoulders or teach them to ride a bike or attend a piano recital or . . ." Her voice broke before she could finish, and she wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I hate him for it."

Anderson was confused. "Hate who?"

"My father. The boys wanted to be like them, and he never expected any less. Never showed them he was proud of them. Never shows me he's proud of _me_!" She didn't realize how she had bottled this up until now. She shoved away from the desk and jumped to her feet. "It's all his fault! If we didn't have to prove ourselves constantly, Jimmy would have never been in that plane with three Japanese zeros on his tail, fighting for . . . fighting for . . .his _life_!" She struggled for the words, wrestling terror at the thought of her beloved brother in the cockpit of that burning plane.

She looked Bobby square in the face for the first time. "Are you ever scared, Bobby? When you're up there?"

His first instinct was to lie, as she looked at him with those big blue eyes and give the patented, suave answer they gave all the girls. But, Abby deserved better than that.

"Every time. Every damn time." He returned her gaze just as evenly.

She blinked back tears at his honest words. "I keep thinking about him up there. What did he think about? His wife? His babies? His family? When those bullets tore into that engine, and he started his dive, did he try to bail out, but couldn't? Was the hatch jammed shut? Was he trying to pull out if it? When he hit the water, did he . . . know? Did he feel it?" She was ranting, and she knew it, but it scared her that her brother could have been so frightened, so terrified, so alone. She bit her lip to hold back the sobs she had managed to keep at bay all day long.

Before she realized it, he had his arms around her. He smelt like he did that day on the beach – engine grease and soap. It was a scent she was accustomed to, associating it with the love and camaraderie of her brothers.

_Her brothers_ . . .

Abby buried her face in Anderson's chest and wept, using him as a shield against the black despair in her soul. She cried for her brother who had died, and the two who were still alive. And if he knew it or not, she cried for Bobby, too. And T.J. and Bragg and Casey and Gutterman and all of them. Each time they went up, the odds were against them. If it wasn't the enemy, it was fatigue or parts failure or just plain carelessness.

And that's why she didn't want to get to know any of them. She already had the weight of her family on her shoulders. And now – now, she had these guys to worry about, too, the self-proclaimed Black Sheep who could outrun a Japanese fighter pilot, but couldn't outrun death when their number was up.

* * *

Anderson needed a drink. Badly. He headed straight for the bar and poured himself a scotch, drinking it in one gulp, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. That sort of pain, he could deal with. Not the sort of pain he saw in her eyes, wanting to do something – anything! – to go back in time and keep her brother alive.

Ah, but being a mere mortal, he was unable.

And, he always hated women's tears.

But, he held her while she sobbed, stroking her hair and her back and murmuring any words of comfort he could think of. When she calmed down, he made her eat, even managing to make her smile when he told her about some prank or other the guys played on Bragg the night before.

After she ate enough to make him happy, he tucked her into bed, her sleepy, 'thanks, Bobby,' still echoing in his head.

Before he left, he sat the picture of her and her brothers over the one of her fiancée.

_The lucky bastard_.

Anderson flopped down in an empty chair. T.J., Bragg and French were right in the middle of a game of poker and didn't even look up.

"So, how'd it go?" French asked.

"She talked to you, didn't she?" T.J. tried not to sound sullen, but it hurt. A lot.

Anderson wiped his mouth with sleeve. "Yeah."

T.J. tossed his cards on the table. "Well? How is she?"

"How do you think she is?" Anderson answered sarcastically. What he wanted now was a shower. And his bunk.

"So, is she as tough a broad as Jim said she was?"

Anderson's voice softened. "Even you wouldn't be tough if you were going through what she is."

T.J.'s eyes searched Anderson's face. He heard the change in tone. And wondered what it meant.

Anderson shook himself out of his thoughts and plunked his empty glass down onto the table. "And you know something else?"

"What's that?" French asked, idly playing with the deck of cards.

"I know now that when this war's over, being a shrink is definitely not an option for me."


	7. Chapter 7

It was hard to get back into the swing of things. The first day was the worst. Abby tried to brush off the other nurses' condolences, but not out of rudeness; she just didn't want to burst into tears.

So, she filled her waking hours with work. Mind-numbing, back breaking work. For the first time in ages, the hospital ward, relatively empty except for a few malaria cases, was taken apart piece by piece and cleaned within an inch of its life, then put back together, good as new. Abby had help at times from the others, but long after they were off-duty, she continued her cleaning, easily picking up where she left off the day before.

The supply closet was next, Abby sending the dust bunnies on their way after organizing all medicines alphabetically.

It was methodical, soothing, predictable. While trying to remember where she put the hydrocortisone or scrubbing a particular stubborn spot on the floor, her mind could forget, at least for a little while, its sorrow at her loss, the loneliness of not being able to attend the funeral back in the States, the fear for her surviving brothers.

The telegrams still came from her mother, her father, Johnny, Kevin and other family friends. Tony's message lagged along behind them all. Abby read them, allowing herself a moment to weep, then stoically put them away. Tears would do her no good. It would do Jimmy no good.

Abby left the photo of her and her brothers where Bobby left it, right over Tony's picture.

Feeling maudlin, Abby couldn't help but wonder if she would have been feeling this sorrow if it were Tony who had died. But then, there aren't too many Japanese attacks of inland military bases.

It wasn't fair to think that, and she knew it. After all, she wouldn't have been involved with Tony if he were the daredevil type. When she met him, he was on her father's staff, although he was now permanently assigned to the states due to 'health reasons.'

'Health reasons' her ass. He was just afraid.

But, they were all scared. Bobby even admitted he was. Jimmy was as his injured plane rocketed into the ocean.

Those were the thoughts nightmares were made of, waking her up with a start in the middle of the humid night, heart in her throat.

She didn't see any of the Black Sheep for several days. For that, she was grateful. And, she knew why. When faced with death, pilots had a tendency to run and hide, almost as if death couldn't touch them if they stayed away. Like it was contagious. Pilots rarely attended other pilot's funerals. To do so admitted death was an option. And, it never was.

It was so easy to cling to Bobby, to put down her defenses and allow herself the luxury of needing another human being. She told herself it was only because he was there. She could just as easily have broken down in front of anyone.

But, she had let him in her room. Him only, refusing everyone else's request at entry.

Abby told herself again it was only because they could relate. After Boyle's death, they connected in a way she had not connected with anyone in a long time.

That's all it was, nothing more, nothing less.

But, by the time the hospital was spotless, she still didn't feel any better.

As always, the night air was humid, but a breeze blew off the ocean, bringing with it the scent of salt and night-blooming flowers.

The last telegram had arrived right before supper. Abby was back to eating with the girls, and they seemed relieved that her self-therapy using cleaning was over. Everything seemed back to normal. On the outside. Inside, Abby felt like she was set adrift. Dangerous territory. Because, that meant she would automatically try to cling to the first thing that came her way. Like a flood victim holding onto the first debris that came along.

The last telegram actually accentuated those feelings. That's how she found herself on the little lagoon beach, staring out over the rippling water. The telegram fluttered in her hand as she sat with her knees drawn up to her chin.

When he sat down beside her, she wasn't even really surprised.

"How'd you find me?" she asked, still looking out at the water.

He stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. "I figured you'd show up here eventually. This seems to be the place for escaping from it all." He didn't tell her he'd come here every night, hoping to see her.

She glanced at him, but he didn't seem to be mocking her.

They both continued staring out onto the water, the moon reflected on the surface.

When he took the telegram from her, she didn't protest.

"Twins, huh? Must run in the family."

"She'll have her hands full. If those boys are anything like Jimmy and Johnny were."

"Life has an uncanny ability of moving on, whether we want it to or not. Doesn't it?" He brushed his hair from his forehead, the wind blowing it out of place.

"That's very philosophical, Bobby. Don't let the guys hear you, or next thing you know, you'll be labeled the squadron egghead." Abby glanced sideways at him and managed a smile.

His laugh echoed off the water.

Her smile broadened at the sound, and she laid back into the sand. He followed suit.

"You know, T.J.'s a little mad at me." She hadn't seen him all week.

"No kiddin', sweetheart. He's also a little ticked at me."

She raised up on her elbow to see him better. "You? Why?"

"Well, we're supposed to be mortal enemies. Me and you, that is. And you and T.J. are supposed to be . . . whatever it is you two are."

Abby flopped back down on her back, ignoring the sand she was in her shirt. "You men are all alike. Everything's a competition with you. And . . . thanks. For – well, for letting me snot all over you like that."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "That's OK. First hot water that's hit my body for weeks." He paused for a moment. "I'm just glad to see . . . that you're doing better." She didn't know it, but he got regular updates on her from Donna. He knew about the cleaning sprees and the nightmares.

She shrugged, fighting tears that always seemed too damn close to the surface. "It's hard, but . . . but I'll manage."

"I have no doubt in my mind."

That sat in comfortable silence for awhile, enjoying the breeze. Although they weren't touching, Abby liked the quiet feel of him next to her. It had a calming affect on her bruised and battered soul.

"I've found a hobby." He broke the silence, almost making her jump.

"You mean, one that doesn't involve booze, bombs or bimbos?"

He sat up with a groan. "No, it doesn't involved booze, bombs or bimbos," he mimicked.

She sat up, too. "Well? What is it?"

"You promise not to laugh."

"Scout's honor," she replied solemnly.

He looked at her skeptically. "Swear?"

"OK, OK, I swear! Now, what is it?"

He sighed, almost looking like he wanted to change his mind. "It's photography."

She blinked. "Seems like it'd be hard to get supplies around here for that."

He looked sheepish. "Well, the supplies sort of belong to the military. Pappy made me in charge of taking photographs for missions and stuff. So, I just use the same stuff outside of missions, too."

"That's a very good way of putting it, Bobby. Taking the 'better to ask forgiveness than permission' route."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Well, how's it going?"

He crossed his legs, making patterns in the sand with his fingers. He looked so much like a little boy, not a Marine pilot, she had to smile.

"Fine, I guess. I'll have to show you what I've done so far."

"I'd like that."

His head jerked up. "You would?"

She was a little taken aback. "Sure. Why not? Hey, maybe when you're a rich and famous photographer, I can tell people, 'yeah, I knew him way back when he was using stolen flight cameras'."

"Borrowed," he corrected.

"Right. _Borrowed_."

He trickled the sand through his fingers, watching it fall. "We're going out in the morning, but meet me on the beach afterwards."

"How will I know when you're back?"

He grinned. "Oh, I'll let you know."

She looked at him suspiciously. "No monkey business."

"Me?" he looked surprised. "Never. I better get back though. We're flying out early." He rose to his feet effortlessly

Abby didn't ask any particulars about the mission. She didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss. But, she did try to ignore the tendrils of concern forming in her chest as he offered her his hand.

_That's the last thing I need to do! Worry about him . . . I mean, them_.

"I think . . . I think I'll stay here. For a bit."

He looked dubious, letting his hand fall to his side. "I don't know. It may not be safe."

"I think I can take whatever any ruffian has to dish out at this point."

He smirked. "True. Poor bastard."

He disappeared into the woods, leaving her with a growing sense of apprehension of what she was getting herself into.

The moonlight glinted off the ring on her hand. She rarely paid it any attention anymore. Both of them had avoided setting a date, her by joining the Army and him by being his usual procrastinating self.

At first, it was fun dating Tony. Her father loved him, and it got her mother off her back. She even surprised herself by accepting his proposal, but she was almost 25 at the time. Practically an old maid. Not that it ever bothered her. But, if her mother bemoaned her lack of beaus another day, she would scream. He was a good man, would take care of her for the rest of her life. What more could a woman want? It was the sensible thing to do – marry Tony – and that's what she always was – sensible old Abby.

Nevertheless, here she was, getting all sweaty palms over some hotshot pilot – something she always swore to herself she would _never_, under _any_ circumstances, do. She didn't need to ruin what she had with Tony. And, if he could be faithful back in the states, she sure as hell would be, too!

She would meet Anderson tomorrow. Look at his pictures. Comment on them appropriately. Despite their rocky beginnings, he had been kind, almost gentle with her, and she owed him that much. Then, escape back to the hospital, where she'd stay for the duration of her tour.

Abby hoped it was as easy as it sounded.


	8. Chapter 8

Oh, he gave her a sign alright.

She and Maria were dawdling over lunch at the Mess Hall, both enjoying the afternoon off. There were a few people scattered about, but it was far from crowded.

They sauntered out the door, deep in discussion about a patient Dr. Reese was having trouble with, when the buzzing of a plane grew louder and louder.

Maria stopped talking mid-sentence. "What in the world . . ."

The Corsair blew right above them, buzzing right over the hospital and just missing the tree tops. People walking outside hit the ground.

Abby and Maria ducked instinctively, but the plane disappeared over the treetops before they realized what had happened. Abby, standing half inside the Mess Hall, spotted the head nurse, coffee covering the front of her blouse. Abby was almost certain she heard the normally unflappable woman cursing.

Maria craned her neck. "What in the world was that all about?"

"Ahhh . . . I don't know. Probably one of those crazy pilots pulling some stunt or other. You know how they are." She hoped she didn't look guilty. It wasn't like she _knew_ what Bobby was saying when he said he'd give her a 'sign.'

Plus, he made it back. That was the best part.

Abby excused herself, promising Maria she would meet her later for a drink. The girls regularly stocked a bit of alcohol, but it was only for them. If the pilots found out, it'd be gone in ten minutes.

Trying to pretend she wasn't primping – _remember, you're just going to meet him, say nice things and leave_ – she pulled on a pair of cut-off shorts that used to be a pair of her uniform slacks until her cleaning spree wore holes in the knees and a red shirt that belonged to Donna.

But, since Donna was always borrowing her clothes, she figured her roomie wouldn't mind.

Actually taking pains with her hair, deciding to keep it loose about her shoulders – she did have the afternoon off, after all! – she actually put on a little powder and lip gloss. Not for Bobby. Goodness no! She just . . . felt like it, that's all.

She took her time getting to the motor pool and signing out a jeep, not wanting to seem too eager. But, it was hard not to admit, despite her earlier speeches to herself, that she was looking forward to today.

* * *

"Would you hurry _up_?" Anderson wailed.

"What's the hurry, Bobby? Big date?" Jim scrubbed his hair under the small stream of water that served as their shower. It was just a bucket with a string within four small walls, nothing fancy. But, except for the cold water, none of the men really cared.

Anderson hopped on one foot, then the other. "Uhh, no. I just . . . need to be somewhere. To meet somebody."

"Well, hold your horses. You'll get your turn. Your 'somebody' will just have to wait. Oh, and Bobby?"

"What?" Anderson sounded surly.

"What was the deal with buzzing the hospital?" Jim shut the water off and took his time drying, further exasperating Anderson.

"I just felt like it, that's all."

"Well, don't break formation like that again."

"Uh . . . right."

Jim often served as squadron leader on missions Pappy didn't fly, so Anderson had to do as told. That much he knew.

When Jim finally emerged, towel wrapped around his middle, Anderson practically shoved him aside.

"I don't care what he says, he's meeting a girl," Jim muttered towards Jerry, the next in line.

"We usually have to drag Bobby in here kicking and screaming," Jerry agreed.

"I can hear you, you know!" Anderson said as he vigorously scrubbed his face, debating on shaving in the middle of the day. Knowing he'd certainly be razzed about _that_, he opted not to. There was no way he was going to tell them about Abby. They'd wind up teasing him at taking up with the woman that kicked his ass, and he'd never hear the end of it.

Plus, he wasn't taking up with her. Right?

After throwing on the first clean clothes he could find, Anderson rooted underneath his cot until he found the camera and makeshift tripod, grabbed the photos he had developed and bolted from camp, ignoring strange looks from the other guys.

* * *

Abby was glad to see he was the only one on the beach. It was often busy, the men playing volleyball and the women watching, often a couple breaking away to walk hand-in-hand down the beach.

Not that Abby was expecting any hand-holding, but she just wanted to keep her business just that – her business.

Anderson was busy messing with what looked like a camera on stilts. His eyes lit up when he saw her walking towards him.

"Hey! Thought you might have changed your mind."

"After that little stunt you pulled, I probably should have." But, she grinned when she said it.

"Glad you liked it."

"Liked it? It was worth it to see Major Arant spill coffee all over herself. Oh, and a visiting dignitary and his guides sprawled out in the dirt. Hilarious stuff!"

"Thanks." Bobby actually looked proud of himself.

Abby pointed to the camera. "That's a nice looking piece of equipment you _borrowed_."

Bobby actually looked excited. "Yeah, it's got a timer on it, too. I can set it up to take pictures every two, five or ten seconds." He bustled over to her and took her arm. "Here. Sit right here."

"Uh . . . sure." It took Abby a moment to realize she was seated right in the line of the camera. "Ummm . . . what are you doing?"

"Just sit." He poked his head behind the camera, made a few adjustments, then headed her way, plopping down in the sand next to her.

Abby gave the camera a wary look, but Anderson soon thrust a handful of pictures in front of her. A distraction.

She thumbed through them. There were a few she expected: his plane, his tent, and one amusing one of Jim passed out on the bar of the Sheep Pen.

"Blackmail," Bobby mentioned.

"Of course."

She had to stop at the next one. Even in black-and-white, the sunset was magnificent, the rays of the sun shining into the ocean, which was unusually rough that day. There was another one of a flower, one of the crocuses that were always blooming, that she liked, too.

"There are actually pretty good," she said, thumbing through them again.

"You really think so?" His tone sound surprised.

"Well, yeah. With what you have to work with, this is good stuff." She pulled out the sunset. "Especially this one."

He pushed it towards her. "Keep it. It's yours."

She started to protest. "No, I couldn't . . ."  
"Yes, you can."

"But . . . it's good!"

"I made copies."

"Of course you did." She rolled her eyes, tucked her hair behind her ear against the wind. "Fine. I'll keep it." Honestly, she was rather pleased. She even knew just where she'd hang it.  
Remembering her earlier admonition to not hang around, she stood up. "I better get going . . ."

"But . . . but you just got here!" Anderson protested. "Plus, I've got to run through this film."

"What film?"

"The film that's been taking your picture for the past few minutes." He motioned towards the camera.

"Oh, good grief!" Abby moaned. She crossed her arms over her chest. "And just why are you doing this?"

"I'm going to call it, 'Girl on the Beach'," he held his arm out, almost as if he were reading a banner. "It will win worldwide acclaim and go on to make me rich. Of course, as my muse, you deserve payment. My very first sunset picture."

Abby threw back her head and laughed. "You are so full of it, sometimes, you know."

"I'd of figured you'd have said, 'all the time' instead of 'sometimes." He grinned, his eyes crinkling.

"I think you're right. I was mistaken."

"Ah, hah! You said you are _wrong_, and I am _right_!" He did a little jig where he stood.

She poked him in the chest playfully, totaling forgetting her earlier promises to herself to leave ASAP. "Don't get used to it, buster. It doesn't happen often."

"That's Lieutenant Buster to you, Captain Reilly."

She stuck her tongue out at him as the camera clicked away.

Anderson surprised her by bowing low in front of her. "M'lady, may I have this dance?" He looked up at her and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh, come on, a dance?" She looked around. "In the middle of the beach?"

"Live a little, Abs."  
She made a face, but agreed, giving him a little curtsey to play along. However, she almost balked when he pulled her towards him, but not right up against him, thankfully. His hand felt warm on her waist, and she felt the oh-to-familiar tingling sensation.

"Wh-what music will we dance to?" She was nervous. She _hated_ being nervous!

"Who says we need music? We have this glorious day. I have a beautiful woman in my arms. We'll make our own music."

And off they went as he hummed a made-up tune. Abby had to follow his lead very closely.

"I don't believe I've ever heard of this step." She tried not to look at her feet. Dancing was never her strong point. "It's almost like a cross between a waltz and a jig."

He grinned down at her. "Nice to know I'm not the only one of this rock who can't dance." He pulled her a bit closer to see if she would protest.

She didn't. "I don't think what you do in the Sheep Pen with the girls is considered the epitome of dancing."

He startled her by twirling her around, and she resisted the urge to laugh aloud. This was actually fun!

"Can you believe Gutterman is the best dancer of us all? Took lessons as a kid."

"_Jim_ Gutterman? _Seriously_?" She was getting a little more comfortable with this step.

"You betcha. He can cut a rug with the best of them."

He startled her again by dipping her. This time, she did laugh aloud. "If you drop me, Robert Anderson, I swear I will get you!"

"Promise?" He pulled her upright, this time right against him. She didn't protest that either.

Hell, it must be his lucky day!

"You can count on it." Her lips were mere inches from his as she looked up into his eyes. She never realized it before, but his brown eyes had green flecks in them.

She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. "I think you better let me go." She yelled at her muscles to move away, but they weren't listening.

Damn muscles.

His hands left her waist and brushed her hair away from her cheek. "What if I don't want to?"

"Uh . . . I want you to. Please?" Didn't she?

His fingers kept brushing through her hair, softly caressing her cheek.

He was going to kiss her.

Her thoughts flew to the first time he kissed her, when he _tricked_ her, and she waited for the anger that followed that thought.

But, not this time. A surprising surge of desire hit her, remembering the feel of his lips on hers. Her senses sharpened, the smell of the salt air tangy in her nose, mixed with a scent she had come to know as purely his, the drone of small aircraft flying overhead, the feel of her heart pumping wildly. Wait. Or was it his heart she was feeling? Sharply, she inhaled.

He looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

This was not how she was supposed to react to him. Fiancée. Tony. Engagement. Remember?

_And if he doesn't kiss me right now, I'll go crazy, that's what's wrong._

And just why were those damn planes so loud?

The air raid sirens started about the time the Japanese kates started firing. Out on the beach, they were perfect targets. He threw her roughly to the ground and shielded her the best he could.

Abby could feel the bullets from the planes snick into the ground around her, kicking up dust and sand. She buried her face in the dirt, getting a mouthful of sand.

When the first wave screamed overhead with a menacing roar, he hauled her to her feet. His hand clutched hers as they ran for the cover of the trees and her jeep. It was well-hidden, but she had only done it to keep the other Black Sheep from seeing it and realizing she was there.

Anderson was suddenly all seriousness, their almost-kiss only moments before forgotten. "You OK?" he asked breathlessly.

She was just as winded. The roar of engines was growing louder. They were coming back for another pass, the air raid siren still droning on. "I - I think so."

He nodded. "Good. Now, stay here until they're gone. I've got to go back to camp." He let go of her hand and started to race away.

"_No_! Wait! Let me go with you!" The sound of the bullets pierced the air, and she ducked instinctively, although they were several yards away. The comforting sound of ground fire followed. Someone was returning fire.

He turned around. "You stay here." He said it as patiently as possible. "They're targeting the camp, and if you go there, you're liable to get hurt."

"But . . . what about you?" She didn't want to let him go.

"I've got to get to my plane, so we can go after them." He talked slowly, almost as if she were a child.

She wanted to protest like a child. Throw a fit. Scream. Anything to keep him from getting in that plane!

But, she didn't react soon enough. With a wink, he was gone.

And just how did he manage to wink at a time like this?

The enemy made three more passes, as Abby watched from the jeep and the woods. There was an explosion in the distance, and she had to keep from panicking, her heart racing in her chest.

Finally, although it only lasted about a minute, the air raid sirens faded away. She heard, rather than saw, the Corsairs take off, chasing them, continuing the fight in the skies.

Abby thought she was going to be sick. With one hand on the hood of the jeep, she fought nausea as her adrenaline pumped through her veins.

Soon, she was a bit calmer. _This is silly. I need to get over there and see if anyone is hurt. There's always need of first aid._

Plus, she wanted to see if Bobby was still on the ground. She hoped so. And that bothered her.

Hesitantly stepping out into the open, she inspected the camera. Surprisingly, it was still intact, although covered in sand. The homemade tripod, however, was toast, one of the legs apparently shot off.

That's when Abby realized how close they'd come, the bullets from the Japanese kate would have hit them if they were just a few inches in either direction.

That time, she was sick, emptying the contents of her stomach on the beach. Although she was in the military, she had come closer to death in traffic back in Chicago than she ever had here. The illusion of safety was apparently just that – an illusion.

Resolutely, Abby wiped her mouth, picked up the camera and headed for the jeep.

The camp was pandemonium. One of the planes was fully involved in flames, and Hutch and another man were valiantly trying to put it out when she drove up.

Bobby was no where in sight. His plane was gone from its typical spot.

Abby swallowed another wave of nausea.

"Ma'am! Ma'am! Are you a nurse?" It was someone Abby didn't recognize.

Instantly, she switched gears. "Yes, I am, soldier." She reached for her bag.

"It's Avery! I think he hit his head trying to get away from those damn – I mean darn – planes."

Abby grabbed the medical bag always kept in the jeeps and followed at a trot. Avery was a new mechanic, and he had a very nasty cut right about in his hairline.

Abby inspected it and cleaned it, sending him to the hospital in an ambulance that managed to arrive just in time.

The activity helped to calm her.

Next on the injured list was Jerry Bragg. He'd hurt his wrist falling into a foxhole that served as an air raid shelter. Abby told him it wasn't broke and wrapped it, telling him to visit the hospital tomorrow for a check-up. _Always efficient. That's me_.

He held his injured arm close to his chest. "I never thought it was right, them picking on you like they did."

Abby shut her bag, wishing he hadn't brought it up. "Thank you, Corporal."

"And, I think it's right noble of you, staying . . .uh . . . true to your fiancée, no matter what any of them say."

"Well, Corporal, good thing I don't care much what they say, isn't it?"

And, just what _were_ they saying? The creeps. Probably the same things the nurses said behind her back.

There were several other minor injuries, small burns, cuts and bruises, and Abby managed to find an excuse to stay until almost dark, when the sound of the returning Corsairs filled the air.

Hutch grabbed his binoculars. "One, two . . . three, four, five . . . six, seven-hey! They all made it!"

Abby didn't realize how tense she was and let out a breath she had been holding.

"You alright, Captain?" Her current patient, a man with a bit of shrapnel in his arm asked.

Abby shook herself. _Silly girl._ "Yes, I'm fine," she answered curtly, the landing planes making more conversation inaudible. She finished up and headed for the jeep right as they all landed.

The men were jubilant, she could tell. High fives and congratulations all around as they gathered on the field. She busied herself with her medical kit, waiting for something, although she wasn't sure what.

Bobby put his hand on her back, startling her. "You still here?" he asked in his deep voice.

She took a deep breath, turning to face him. "There were some injuries."

He smiled at her, his face streaked with smut from the plane. "You're a regular Angel of Mercy, aren't you?"

She chuckled awkwardly. "That's me." She remembered something and rooted in the jeep, handing him the camera.

His eyes lit up. "I thought for sure it bit the dust out there on the beach."

"I went to check on it – after the planes were gone," she quickly added at his stern expression. "But, I'm afraid the tripod was in a million pieces."

"That's fine. I'll just make another one." He seemed excited about the prospect.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, until someone started making kissy noises. They both looked over at the group standing nearby, Gutterman. She should have known. T.J. just looked annoyed.

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Would you guys cut it out?"

"I better get going." Abby felt her cheeks flame and was glad it was almost dark as she climbed into the jeep and reached for the starter.

"Wait!" He stopped her. "Have lunch with me tomorrow."

She sighed. "Bobby, I'm engaged, remember?"

He scowled. "How can I forget? You're always reminding me."

_Ouch._ "Listen, I had fun today. And you're really good at the photography. Stick with it." She had to get away and fast. Too much had happened already, and if she didn't back off, she was going to be right in the middle of a situation she swore she would never be in with the kind of person she always avoided.

And, good Lord, what about Tony? What kind of wife would she be if she couldn't even manage to keep her hands to herself, let alone her thoughts?

Deftly, she cranked the jeep and roared off, more determined than ever to hole up in her room and not come up until her stint on this damn island was over.

She didn't look back. She didn't want to see him again.

Unfortunately, she saw him sooner than she expected.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day dawned overcast, ominous clouds boiling overhead. But, as long as the wind stayed down, the Black Sheep flew their missions. Abby heard them taking off as she readied herself for her shift.

She refused to look out the window and count them. No more Black Sheep for her.

There had been a party last night at the Sheep Pen, a party Abby didn't attend. Many of the other nurses were still passed out from the night before, and Abby had agreed to take over the earlier shift to allow them to sleep.

For all the smart ass comments they made about her, Abby ought to make them work with a hangover.

She had to wonder which one Bobby had spent the night with and hated herself for it, slamming the medicine closet door closed a little harder than necessary.

There were several patients, a few of them from the attack yesterday. Abby did her rounds with the doctor and started administering medicine when Nurse Arant interrupted.

"Captain, I need you to go to the airfield. There's a wounded pilot coming in."

Abby almost dropped the cup of water she was handing to one wounded soldier. "But, I can't leave . . ."

"I'll stay here until you get back," the head nurse answered curtly. "I don't know how bad the injury is, but take the ambulance with you. They'll be here shortly."

Always the good soldier, Abby swallowed her protests and hurriedly prepared.

The entire ride to the airfield, she wondered who it was, praying it wasn't Bobby, then feeling guilty towards the others.

Honestly, she wished it was none of them, and that they were all back in the states, living their own separate lives.

_Get a grip, Reilly. Be a professional_.

Once again, she found herself on the airfield, standing with the ambulance at a safe distance, waiting on a plane.

She saw them coming, one of them trailing smoke from a wing. Suddenly tense, she gripped the mirror of the ambulance tightly, her palms sweaty.

The siren started. "We have a smoker, guys! Get ready!" Hutch announced. People scattered.

When one of the planes was wounded enough to fly back, that plane and the wingman always went together. The injured pilot and plane would be an easy target without protection.

The smoking plane drew closer, the wingman just above. Abby strained, but couldn't see who either of them were.

"Come on, come on . . ." she whispered under her breath as they drew closer, the smoking Corsair wobbling just a bit.

When the wheels touched the ground she exhaled loudly, wanting to sink to the ground. The last thing they needed was a crashed plane. That never turned out well.

The wingman flew low and turned around to make his own descent, but Abby was already racing towards the still-smoking plane, corpsmen right behind her.

Her heart sank to her toes when she saw the name on the side, bullet holes forming a neat pattern across the body of the plane.

Hutch was already climbing the wing, the two corpsmen right behind him to help him out. "Bobby! Bobby, you alright?" He pulled up the cockpit door as Abby waited impatiently on the ground.

There was one – no, two! – small holes in the glass. There was a dark stain there, too, and she knew what it was. She swallowed hard, focusing with all her might on being professional.

They helped him from the cockpit, and Abby was relieved to see Bobby seemed to be doing well on his own. Although bloody, he was obviously very much aware of what was going on around him, fussing and fuming about being taken out of the action too soon as they set him gently on the waiting stretcher.

If he was shocked to see her, she didn't notice it as she inspected his wounds, so thankful to realize it wasn't bad as she thought. "Single gunshot wound to the upper arm," she said, more to herself. She pinched his hand. "Can you feel that?"

He jerked away from her. "Ow! What are you trying to do, hurt me more?"

"Just making sure no major nerves were damaged. Corpsmen! Load him in the ambulance!"

Obediently, they picked up the ends of the stretcher, lugging their charge to the waiting vehicle.

Jim trotted up. The wingman. "He goin' to be OK?"

"He'll live to fight another day." _Unfortunately_. Abby hoped she didn't sound bitter as she felt.

They loaded him on, and Abby climbed inside with him. They were soon roaring back towards the hospital.

Abby put pressure on his wound to stop the bleeding, ticking off a list of things that needed to be done back at the hospital. She hoped the doctor was waiting and that Arant had thought to ready a room for them to dress this and . . .

"You know, I never understood why you nurses wore white. All it does is get dirty." Bobby sounded a little dazed.

Abby looked at him. "Are you feeling alright?" He looked a little grey to her.

He rubbed his eyes with his good hand. "It hurts like hell, Abs. And, I think the excitement is wearing off – you know, flying wounded, thinking I was going to die, wondering if I would wreck that damn piece of junk or kill myself. Thinking I was going to die." He looked at her. "I'm not, am I? Going to die?"

"You'll be back terrorizing the Japanese in no time." She turned away, fiddling with some bandages, wishing she were anywhere but here in this small enclosed space.

"Look at me, Abigail." His voice was questioning, warm despite the pain.

Abby felt her eyes well up and cursed under her breath. "Dammit, Bobby! No! Now, just lay there and be quiet. We're almost there."

Thankfully, they screeched to a halt and corpsmen were there to remove him from the ambulance and away from her. She saw Arant with the doctor and knew he would be in good hands. She would just be in the way.

She sat for a moment in the back of the ambulance collecting her thoughts. Aimlessly, she looked down at her uniform, which had been sparkling white that morning. Already, it was covered in grease, dirt and blood.

Bobby was right. White was a bad color for nurses.

* * *

"Next."

Abby sent her last patient, an orderly with a wicked set of burns on his hands, away with instructions on returning the next day for a bandage change. It had been busier than usual. And, she still had to make rounds at of the nearly-full ward.

Completing his chart, she didn't even notice who really was next.

"Hi."

She paused for a moment, but didn't look up, cursing her stomach for fluttering like it did. "Lieutenant."

"Now, I thought we'd progressed further than that." He actually sounded disappointed.

With an exaggerated flourish, she signed the previous patient's chart and picked up the next one, wishing she had paid attention to the list. She could have been conveniently scarce with Bobby's turn came along. Just like she'd been doing all week.

She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Trust me, you have to be formal to keep you boys from getting any ideas. I've had more marriage proposals today than I ever had. It's been a long day. A _really_ long day."

"Who, exactly?"

Abby noted his tone. "Oh, c'mon, Anderson. Most of these guys –boys – often have some sort of suggestive comment, but most are respectful. But, apparently, they were all looking for a wife. Or a quick lay." She shrugged and shut his file, finally looking at him. She could just see the bandage peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

She hadn't seen him since the ambulance ride. And, damn if her heart didn't skip a beat.

_Shit_.

"I bet you like it. All the male attention." His dark eyes sparkled.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Most of them have girlfriends and even wives back home. I wasn't born yesterday." Wanted to get the attention off herself, she started asking the pertinent questions. "Any problems? Pain? Weakness?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes first thing in the morning."

Abby made a note in his file. "Any fever? Loss of appetite?"

"Nope. None." When he shook his head, his hair fell across his forehead. Abby almost reached over and brushed it away herself, but stopped herself just in time, startled with the realization maybe she was just a little too comfortable around Bobby Anderson.

"It says here if everything looks like it's healing that the bandages can go."

Bobby brightened. "Really? Because let me tell you, I haven't been too keen on being grounded."

Abby tossed the file aside. "It's only been a week."

"Yeah, but the guys have been busy. At first it wasn't so bad because Jerry was grounded, too, but it's just been me for several days now." He shifted uncomfortable on the examination table. "They can use all the help they can get."

Abby heard the planes coming and going, almost at all hours, it seemed. She had gathered from her patients and the other nurses that they were trying to bomb a little island called New Georgia nearby that had a full entrenchment of Japanese. However, the enemy was dug in quite well, and now matter how often they were bombed, they kept right on firing away.

It was disheartening and downright frustrating to the pilots. She knew from experience. And, she wasn't looking forward to giving him permission to return to his plane, either.

He could wind up like Jimmy.

She shook herself out of her thoughts. "Take off your shirt," she said, a little gruffly than she wanted to.

"Oh, I've _dreamed_ of hearing you say those words to me." He waggled his eyebrows at her, watching the color creep into her face.

"Really, Bobby. You're hopeless. I can't do this with your shirt on." Dammit, why did he do that to her? She busied herself gathering her supplies with her back to him. She heard shuffling and knew he was finally doing as told.

By the time she turned around, she forced herself back to cool indifference. Made all this easier. First, she inspected the bandage, making sure there was nothing noticeable wrong. Next, it was time to cut it away.

"You've been trading shifts." He said it matter-of-factly.

"Uh . . . just something we do. Girls owe me time, I owe them time." Sure, she'd been avoiding him. Should have done it a long time ago.

"I tried to come for my check-ups when you were here."

He was taking a new bold tactic, and Abby wasn't sure she liked it. Instead, she started cutting the bandage layers away, leaned in close, so she wouldn't make a mistake. Although cutting him had its advantages. He'd be grounded again.

_Really, Abby. Get a grip._

"I think all the nurses are just as capable as I am."

He watched her carefully, the smell of her shampoo tickling his nose as she worked. God help him, he'd always think of her when he smelt vanilla. "Well – sure. But, I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

She seemed distracted, which made this easier. He didn't want to rile her with those scissors in her hand. "Well, I haven't seen you since the beach."

"True." She was almost done. And, the sooner the better. Being this close to him was giving her libido a workout.

_Why, oh why, did she not pay more attention to the schedule?_

"That day has been the best day I've had since I've been here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Even with the kates swarming?"

"No," he sounded impatient. "Before that. With you. And my second favorite day also starred you. The day with T.J.'s boat."

He didn't realize it, but she was a champ at ignoring her patients while they droned on and on. She had to be. Some of them felt like since she was in the medical profession, they could tell her anything.

But, she'd never admit to him or anyone that she thought about that day, too. Just the two of them, talking, laughing, dancing. Enough to make her dreamy-eyed. If she'd let it. And, dammit, she wasn't going to let it!

"If you're going to propose, you're a little late. I've already had five today." His wound didn't look all that bad, the angry red scars fading to pink across his chest and shoulder. She reached out to inspect the wounds, wanting to feel for anything out of the ordinary.

But, when she touched him, brushing her fingers across his warm skin, the atmosphere in the little room changed dramatically. Abby wondered if he noticed it, too. Her heart rate sped up, and she was pretty sure he shivered under her touch. She could feel his breath against her hair, tickling her neck, sending messages through her body that she hadn't felt in a _really_ long time. All she had to do was tilt her head towards him just a bit, and . . .

Abby backed off to a more respectful distance. "Looks good," she managed to croak.

He looked just as tense as she was. And disappointed. "Uh . . . great. Guess that means . . ."

Abby felt a surge of irritation. "Yes, it means you can get back to terrorizing the skies." She grabbed for his chart, glad for something to do with her hands that did not involve _touching_ him and wrote furiously.

He was watching her. She knew it.

"You're cute when you're mad."

She cut her eyes at him. "I'm not mad. Or cute. And, put your shirt back on." _For the love of God, please_.

"Why do you not like pilots?"

She dropped her hands, the file slapping her leg. "I like pilots just fine. All my brothers are pilots." At least the two that were left. The thought hung in the air between them. Abby had to say something to erase the feeling of sorrow in her chest. "You are the biggest bunch of cocky, self-centered, royal pains in the ass that I have ever met. All of you. No matter the branch of the military or rank, for that matter. And you Marines are the absolute worst."

He had the audacity to grin at her. "You know, I bet your father looks exactly like that when he's yellin' and cussin' at his troops."

"That's a low blow, Lieutenant. I do not look like my father."

"I've seen pictures. You're much prettier."

"Gee. Thanks." But, she did smile when she glanced at him, although it was a small one.

He blurted it out without thinking, his well-rehearsed speech falling away as she focused her blue eyes on him. "Go out with me tonight. Please?" he added hastily.

She tossed the file aside. "We've gone over this before, Bobby. No. N. O. No."

He held up his hand for silence, and she grudgingly complied.

"Just hear me out. You stay holed up in that little room by yourself all the time. You need to get out a little. Meet some people. Have fun. I bet Tony has fun back in the States, going out with the boys. Having a few drinks. Laughing a bit. Why can't you?" He hoped he hit a sore spot. It was the only chance he had.

Good question. Tony always loved going to the bars, claiming that although the other guys hit on the women, he never did. Come to think of it, Abby never really cared one way or the other, just as long as he didn't make a fool out of her.

She studied him. "Maria has been trying to get me to go with her to your little parties. Donna, too, although not so much lately." Apparently, she and Gutterman had gone their separate ways, Gutterman's choice. Not hers.

Bobby grasped at what little hope he could. "See? They'll be there, and all the other girls, too. We could play some poker, maybe dance. What could happen?"

She looked in his dark eyes. _A whole helluva lot, that's what_. "I don't know . . ."

"Please? If you don't like it, I'll leave you alone from here on out. I promise."

"Hey, if anything, it'll be a good way to get rid of you."

"That's not what I meant," he pouted.

"I'm just kidding, Bobby." _Although it did have its advantages . . . oh, hell. _"Fine. I'll go. I never could resist puppy dog eyes." Or sexy-looking, half-shaved men wearing unbuttoned shirts and a smile.

He brightened considerably.

She held up her finger. "Under one condition."

"You name it, m'lady." He was instantly solemn.

"Keep your hands to yourself. You and all those other Black Sheep."

"I will be nothing but a gentleman. But, I can't make any promises for the other guys. You know how it is. But, they know what happens when you get riled, so that might be enough to scare them off."

She surprised him by laughing aloud. "I guess they wouldn't forget a mere woman breaking up a fight like that."

"Or breaking my nose."

"That, too."

"So, see you tonight?" He said it almost as if he expected her to change her mind.

She really should. "I'll be there."

He practically skipped out the door, leaving Abby to wonder what in the world she had just done.


	10. Chapter 10

These songs mentioned in this chapter are as consistant with WWII as I could make them. And, I don't own them, either. I own nothing. Remember that before you sue!

* * *

"Are you sure that's not too dressy?" Abby eyed the wrap-around, blue dress with the plunging neckline lying across Maria's bed almost as if it were a poisonous snake.

"Oh, never! We're all dressing up tonight. See what I'm wearing?" It was a flower-print dress with just as low a neckline.

"You have more cleavage than me, Maria. I don't know if I can hold this up." She picked it up and studied it.

"You may not have to the entire night," Maria's brown eyes danced playfully. "That Bob Anderson's mighty cute."

"And knows it, too," Abby muttered. "Plus, he promised. No monkey business."

"Oh, he promised, did he? Well, I'm sure he would _never_ go back on that." She said it in a tone that implied she was most certainly sure he would.

Abby was so nervous, you'd have thought it was her first date, so she let the comment go. "Just how do all of you get such pretty things out here?"

Maria shrugged. "Ship from home. Plus, you meet a man over here that sometimes wants to buy you something . . . you know . . . nice."

"Well, I guess I've just never had a reason to impress anyone on this crazy island. Still don't," she added hastily.

"But, all girls like to dress up."

"Tony and I used to go to the clubs when we started dating." Over two years ago. Depressing thought. But, the blue dress cheered her. It had been awhile since she'd made pains with her appearance.

"Don't forget these heels. Seems you could use a few inches, since he's taller than you." Abby saw the shoes with the wicked looking heels lying on the floor, dyed to match the dress and slipped them on.

Perfect fit.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

There were three others waiting in the jeep when Abby and Maria found them, and they all did a double take when they saw Abby. Except Donna.

"Well, well, well. Little miss prima donna is getting off her high horse to hobnob with lowly pilots. What a surprise."

Barbara never was Abby's biggest fan.

Abby ignored her. Catty women were a fact of life in the nursing field. She just piled into the jeep, making sure to adjust her skirt around her as she perched precariously on the back. Before Barbara started it up, Abby reached out and touched her roommate on the shoulder.

Abby was surprised Donna was even going. She had been a little under the weather lately, plus she wasn't seeing Jim anymore and spent most of her free time moping.

Donna looked at her, her eyes a little puffy.

Crying again. Never one to waste tears over a man, Abby found it galling to have to console Donna time and time again.

"Nice dress." Donna said over the roar of the engine.

"I couldn't wear any of yours. Maria let me borrow this one." Donna was taller than she was, as well as being blessed with a tiny waist. Abby was stuck with being average: height and weight.

"Bobby'll like it." Donna returned to staring out through the dirty windshield.

Abby almost retorted that she didn't care if Bobby liked it or not; all that mattered was that she liked it herself. But, Donna's mind was roaming, so Abby let it go.

She was an expert at keeping her own catty comments to herself. Barbara should take lessons from her.

The VMF-214 camp was close to the hospital, so in no time, they roared onto the grounds. Barbara slammed on brakes so hard that Abby almost sprawled across everyone else.

"Oops. Sorry," Barbara said in a syrupy sweet voice.

Abby rolled her eyes. She was quickly losing patience with this game.

But Barbara had other things on her mind. Chattering, the others clambered out in a wave of perfume and silk.

Apparently, Abby was the only one a little apprehensive about the whole thing. After all, she was spoken for, and here she was off gallivanting like some school girl! But, should she really be so nervous? It was just a little harmless fun, wasn't it?

She should have stayed home. Done her laundry. Washed her hair. Read a book. Wrote her fiancée, for goodness sakes!

The chattering group climbed the steps into the Sheep Pen, and Abby could hear the raucous welcome they received. Unaccustomed to such high heels, Abby shifted from one foot to the other, debating on just leaving. Hopping in the jeep and retreating. She'd pay some orderly to drive it back here for the girls, and no one would know. Probably wouldn't even notice judging from the laughter and music coming from inside.

* * *

Bobby was running late. Pappy had kept him busy with some errand or other, and before he realized it, it was time for the nurses to arrive. After a quick shower and shave, nicking himself with the razor and cussing Don French for using it without asking, he found himself the last one there.

He just knew one of the other guys would have already claimed her. That thought was enough to make him hurry even more.

Racing around the corner and trying to get his tie on his uniform right at the same time, he spotted her. And stopped dead in his tracks.

_Holy . . ._

He'd never seen her dressed up before. Uniform, civvies and even that bathing suit that he dreamed about, but never like this. Her shoulder length hair was curled and piled on her head in some sort of complicated twist that probably only involved about three bobby pins. And that dress. It fit in _all_ the right places!

And she looked like she was going to bolt as she stood next to the jeep, staring longingly at the driver's seat.

Bobby sprung into action. He got her this far . . .

"You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Abby jumped at the sound of his voice and turned, the skirt swaying about her hips. "Good Lord, Bobby! You startled me!"

Bobby tore his gaze from her dress, trying not to gawk and fumble with his tie at the same time. "You can't go anywhere because you promised."

She sighed, the familiar look of impatience on her face. "I know, I know. I promised. Here, let me do that."

Expertly, she knotted his tie. And tried not to kick herself for getting so close, so soon. "There."

"Those must be some serious heels you've got on," he teased. "You're not usually this tall."

While not quite eye-level, she most certainly was taller. All she had to do was raise her head a bit, her lips mere inches from his and . . .

"Hey, Bobby! Get your ass in here!" The party was well underway, judging from Pappy's tone of voice.

Abby jumped back guiltily, trying not to stumble in these infernal shoes.

"And what do we have here? Why, Captain Reilly! So nice of you to drop by." Pappy sauntered down the steps to greet her, much to Bobby's chagrin.

He reached out and took her hand, kissing the back of it. "You look good enough to eat, Captain Reilly."

She could feel Bobby tense behind her. "Why, Major Boyington, I don't plan on being the main course." She snatched her hand back as quickly as she could without being rude. This was his camp, after all.

Boyington just laughed uproariously and offered her his arm. "Well, you're in the right place. Safest place you can be is with this bunch. Won't nobody harm a hair on your pretty little head. Isn't that right, Anderson?"

Anderson ground his teeth in frustration. "Right."

Abby glanced behind her and gave Bobby an apologetic smile. He shook his head in annoyance and followed them inside.

* * *

Maria was right. It really wasn't so bad. After the initial surprise of seeing her there, they all settled in their usual routine.

The only one that seemed to be missing was the mechanic, Hutch. He was still feverously trying to keep the Corsairs in shape. Their back-to-back missions were taking its toll on the equipment.

Abby wondered just how these guys had enough energy and stamina for a party after what they had been through lately.

After making a big show of escorting her inside, Boyington left her alone, much to Bobby's relief. And her own. Boyington's ego was about the largest she had ever encountered, and she didn't even know if she could handle him for too long.

And, it really was amusing to watch Bobby bristle any time another man would sidle up and make a pass at her, his arm laid possessively on the back of her chair as he glared at the guy until he took the hint and left.

Come to think of it, Tony never cared one way or the other, letting her fend for herself when he was sitting right there watching.

Eventually, after every single one of them tried to get her a drink or to dance, they left her alone. Sitting in their little corner of the boisterous room, that damn crow shrieking "Bonzai!" every chance he got, she actually got to know Robert Anderson.

"It must have been lonely being an only child," she took a sip of her drink she had been nursing all night. No need to get plastered in front of these folks.

"My parents thought they could never have children. I was a late-in-life accident. They were a little lost when it came to raising me." He grinned mischievously. "No wonder I turned to a life of crime. Made things so much more interesting."

She laughed, the scotch making her feel warm and toasty inside. That, and Bobby's arm draped across the back of her chair, his fingers making lazy patterns on the inside of her arm. "So, the Marines would take you after committing grand theft auto?"

He made a face. "It was all to impress a girl."

"Did you do it? Impress her?"

"Yeah, until the cops showed up. Then, she turned on me and said I had kidnapped her or some nonsense like that."

"I'm taking it you don't get any letters from her."

"Nah. I think she's married with three kids."

She leaned back in her chair and turned just a bit to see him better. At least that's what she told himself. But, the feel of his arm across her back was too tempting. "I can't believe the Marines would save you from a life in jail."

"I think it was more that the DA couldn't resist sending such a promising young man who had made one mistake to jail. Marines was the next best thing he could think of, I guess."

"So, let me guess," she motioned towards him with her hand holding her glass, "you wanted to be a pilot because you thought it would be 'a great way to meet babes'."

"Honestly, not at first."

Abby didn't believe him.

He saw her look. "No, really. I've always wanted to fly, and all the sudden, I had this chance. So, I buckled down, completed my training and got accepted to flight school." He smiled. "The babes are just a bonus."

"Of course they are," she said sarcastically, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the smell of vanilla surrounding him, almost provocatively. Plus, the feel of the bare skin on his finger tips was about to drive him certifiably insane. He swallowed hard. "You know, you're probably the only babe – er, lady – that isn't impressed with pilots."

This time, she took a large swallow of her drink. "I grew up with them. I lived and breathed it. My dad was a pilot before he was an admiral. All my parents' friends were pilots. My brothers became pilots. Most of the people I came in contact with were pilots or friends of pilots." She shrugged. "It gets a little old after awhile."

"It must have been hard to move around like that a lot."

He paid more attention to details than she thought. She couldn't even remember when she told him that. She motioned around the room, full of loud conversations and an even noisier juke box. "It's hard to make friends when you're never in one place for long. I realized pretty fast that if I never made friends, I would never have to give them up when we up and moved again."

"That's kind of harsh." His brow furrowed.

She pushed her glass around in a circle on the table. "When I was seven, we moved to Maryland for a year. I had this girl in my school. Amanda. We were absolute best friends. Sleepovers and parties and the whole nine yards. Well, when the year was up, so was my friendship with Amanda. It hurt, and it was hard to understand for a seven year old." She blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes, but it didn't move far.

He reached out and brushed it away. "I bet that's why you're so serious with other people. You never open yourself up to the friendships to avoid getting hurt."

She looked at him, wanting him to move his hand, but then not at the same time. He looked so serious, his dark eyes studying her morosely. "You make it sound like it's such a bad thing."

He let his hand drop. "It's not, if you want to go through life living in a protective shell."

"Hey, Bob! Let's play poker!"

Bobby rolled his eyes at the interruption. Just when he was starting to get to know her . . . "Look, guys, can't you go someplace else?"

They ignored him, settling around the table. Someone produced a deck of cards and before Abby realized it, she was looking at a royal flush, wishing she had brought more cash along.

"One dollar."

"Oooo. Big spender." French leaned in closer to the table, thinking. Finally, he tossed his cards aside. "Too rich for me. What about you, Casey?"

"I'm thinking." His brow furrowed. "OK. Call."

Maria tossed her cards aside, too. "I'm out." She eyed French and smiled coyly. "Would you like to get some air, Lieutenant?"

"Thought you'd never ask." French almost fell out of his chair following her out the door.

Only one left to bid was Gutterman, Barbara draped provocatively across him. He chewed on an unlit cigar. She and Abby eyed each other suspiciously.

Anderson had tossed his cards aside earlier. Abby turned hers, so he could see. Thankfully, he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

Gutterman eyed her. "You're bluffing, aren't you?"

She just met his stare evenly and shrugged.

"Fine. Raise you fifty cents."

Casey tossed his cards aside. "I'm out." He leaned in closer to see how this would turn out.

Abby threw in her fifty cents. "Call." She looked at Gutterman sweetly.

He tossed his cards on the table. "Full house. Beat that, sweetheart."

She heard Bobby chuckle next to her. Carefully, she laid her cards face up. Gutterman's mouth fell open and his cigar almost fell into his lap. Barbara made an unladylike snort.

Casey leaned back in his chair. "You're pretty good at this."

Abby raked her winnings into a pile. "Don't let this pretty face fool you."

Gutterman's chair scraped loudly on the wooden floor. "C'mon, doll, let's go check out the beach."

Barbara couldn't follow fast enough.

Abby shuffled the cards. "So, you two up for another hand?" The crowd had thinned considerably, only T.J. and a new pilot Abby didn't recognize talking shop at the bar.

Casey stood up and stretched. "Better hit the sack. Got a big day tomorrow. It'll be good to have you back, Anderson."

"Good to be back."

Abby thought briefly about the mission they had been desperately trying to complete. And the danger. And the possibilities of injury and death . . .

"I see that."

Bobby's voice brought her back into the here and now.

"See what?"

"You're worrying again."

She shuffled the cards faster. "The last thing I need to do is worry about you crazy bunch of cretins." She hoped she sounded nonchalant. She sure didn't feel it.

Donna barged through the door catching her attention. She had been crying again. Seemed to do a lot of that lately. Abby thought of Barbara and Jim walking out arm in arm a few moments before and figured that was the cause of the tears this time.

Her roommate snatched her purse off the bar and stumbled for the door, trying not to look anyone in the face.

"Donna! Wait!" Abby felt she had to follow. It was full dark outside, and except for the lights from the Sheep Pen, the inky darkness closed in on them. Abby caught her as she walked towards the hospital.

Donna snatched her arm out of Abby's grasp. "Just leave me alone. All of you!" But, she didn't keep barging away.

"He's not worth it, Donna. None of them are."

Donna was sobbing now, smearing her mascara across her eyes. "That's easy for you to say! You're engaged!"

"But, even he's not worth tearing myself up over." Abby had always been practical.

Donna sniffled, the music filtering from the Sheep Pen a stark contrast to her mood. "You don't understand. None of you do. Just, please. Leave me alone."

Still sniffling, she walked into the darkness, leaving Abby standing alone.

At least, she was alone until Bobby walked up behind her. She knew it was him, didn't even have to turn around.

"She alright?"

Abby shook her head. "I don't know, Bobby. I just don't know. This business with Gutterman's got her all screwed up."

"He shouldn't be parading around with Barbara in front of her."

Abby turned to face him, to see if he was kidding. But, the frown on his face told otherwise.

"What?" he asked at the look on her face. "I've always liked Donna. A little on the dumb side, but she's alright."

Abby shrugged. The breeze from the ocean felt good on her face after being in the smoky bar. "Barbara just seems to make the rounds. If I remember correctly, she was parading with you until a few weeks ago."

"There's one in every bunch," he said sensibly.

They heard the sound of giggling on the breeze, and Abby rolled her eyes. "At this rate, I won't get to bed before dawn. We all rode together, you know. And, I'm not walking back in these damn heels."

"You can't leave now."

"Why not?"

"Well," Bobby thought fast. "You haven't danced with me all night."

She made a face, trying to hide her first reaction, which was pure pleasure at being that close to him. "Really, Bobby, is that necessary? I don't want to go back in there." She mentally patted herself on the back for that good excuse.

"You don't have to. We can hear the jukebox from out here."

_Drats. There went that excuse._

"It's a beautiful night, anyway. Plus, you won all my money. You owe me."

Abby relented. "Fine. One dance. But, keep your distance."

As luck would have it, Les Brown's 'Sentimental Journey' started drifting towards them from the jukebox. Abby swore she saw Casey's grinning face for an instant in the window before she stepped towards Bobby. His arms went about her waist, and she hoped like hell he couldn't feel her heart beating.

"How much did you pay Casey for playing this song?" she asked.

"I didn't pay him. You did." The silky material of her dress felt smooth underneath the palms of his hands. He resisted the urge to run his hands towards her hips.

Abby was having just as difficult a time keeping her thoughts platonic. "Huh?"

"I swiped some of _my_ money from _your_ winnings. So, technically, you paid him."

"You are relentless, aren't you?"

"You know it, babe."

They started out at a respectful distance, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Before Les Brown was finished crooning, she had her arms around his neck, her head laid on his shoulder, Harry James's 'Sleepy Lagoon' flowing around them.

It was an automatic response, Abby tried to tell herself. The music was lovely, and the breeze so peaceful, the palm fronds whispering softly. Abby breathed deep as they swayed, the smell of salt water mixed with his aftershave. His hands on her back felt warm, firm, strong. She shivered as he absently wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger, her insides turning to jelly.

_Man, oh man . ._ .

"Cold?" he whispered, his voice husky, his breath tickling her cheek.

She wished it were that simple.

As Helen Forrest sang about being the last to know, thoughts randomly rushed through Abby's head like wildfire, trying to avoid what was going on between her and Bobby, but not wanting to immediately abandon the safety of being in his arms.

_Bobby must've paid Casey a bundle to play all those slow songs in a row._ _I wonder where Donna is? What's her deal? Gutterman couldn't be that good. I hope the twins are doing well. They look just like Jimmy and Johnny at that age.__ The Black Sheep have a mission tomorrow. What will happen? I wonder how Kevin and Johnny are. What about Tony . . ._

They had stopped swaying to the music that was still wafting in their direction. She could feel his heart beating wildly – or maybe that was hers? She wouldn't look at him, was afraid of what she'd see. Desire, for sure. She could already tell that much, pressed against him like she was.

If she let herself think of it, she'd realize she was more afraid of what he'd see on her face.

His lips brushed hers hesitantly at first, almost to gauge her reaction, to see what she would do.

She'd be lying if she didn't say his kiss surprised her, but if she had any thought of protesting, it faded away at his soft touch.

He backed off for just a moment, and realizing she wanted it as much as he did, his next kiss was more forceful. Abby gladly returned the embrace just as ardently, startling herself with the sudden increase in just plain physical _want_.

If she thought he was good when he tricked her into kissing her, this time was oh, so much better! His arms wrapped around her waist, almost as if they could get any closer than they already were, as her hands ran through his hair, a sense of urgency growing between them.

_Tony always hated for me to mess with his hair . . . oh, shit!_

Abby pushed herself away. She hadn't known how much time had gone by. One minute? One second? One hour? They stared at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily, trying to decide what to do next.

Abby straightened her hair and her dress, trying to avoid her embarrassment, her engagement ring winking in the light from the Sheep Pen.

Her engagement ring. To Tony.

"I've . . . I've got to go."

He took a step towards her. "Wait . . ."

But, she was already gone.

* * *

Once she removed her heels, the trip towards the hospital wasn't so painful. She walked fast, purposefully, hoping she didn't run across anyone to comment on her swollen lips or stubble-burned mouth.

_Did what just happened really happen?_

_Oh, yeah. It did. Oh my, did it ever!_

No one had ever kissed her like that. Or garnered such a swift and highly unmannerly reaction from her. A kiss was a show of affection, nothing more. But, kissing Bobby was almost as good as anything she had ever done physically at all.

Shows how good Tony was in the sack. She'd finally slept with him before she left for Vella La Cava, mainly to shut up his whining. It was OK. She didn't really have anything to compare it to. Tony seemed satisfied enough, giving her a peck on the cheek and rolling over, almost immediately snoring away. Leaving her with her thoughts. Wondering if sex was supposed to get any better than that, telling herself it would with time. She hoped.

But, just one touch from Bobby had her mind reeling, her body practically panting for more. He most certainly knew what he was doing. _Oh, and I bet it would be good. Oh, man would it ever . . . stop it right now!_

She fought the war within herself all the way to the hospital and up to her room. There was a lump in Donna's bed, and Abby breathed a sigh of relief that she was sleeping, although fitfully.

Abby removed the dress, draping it over a chair to give back to Maria. She stared at it a moment, wondering if all the excitement over dressing up was worth it. She was always so worried about Tony catting around, only because it would make her look like a fool, and now what had she done? The same thing she didn't want him to do.

And, dammit, she liked it!

This was bad. Really bad.

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she crawled beneath the sheet and hoped for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Bobby stared out across the ocean, the crash and boom of the waves mirroring his emotions.

He knew it would be good. Hell, he even got a glimpse of that the day he tricked her! But, he didn't know it would be _that_ good! Her lips were so soft, and boy was she ever eager.

He wondered if they had a few more moments, if he would have carried her off some place and had her out of that dress.

He'd been with plenty women, especially out here when death was imminent. The average lifespan of a pilot was a year. One year! He would enjoy the opposite sex as much as he wanted as often as he wanted if his life expectancy was that short!

But, Abigail. She was a different story. The skin on her shoulders, her neck, her arms was so silky smooth. He wanted to know what the rest of her felt like. All of her. And it wasn't just physical. He loved the way she laughed and the way she gave him dirty looks when he said something she didn't like. He even liked the way she turned a page in her book!

He kicked the sand roughly, getting some in his boot and cursed. Knowing he was going to mess up his uniform, but not caring, he settled to the ground, taking off his boot and dumping out the sand.

He heard footsteps behind him and briefly hoped it was Abby.

It was Meatball. The bull terrier tackled him, tail wagging.

"Didn't think you'd be out here alone," Pappy said, following his dog.

Bobby propped his elbows on his knees as he sat cross-legged in the sand, pushing the dog away. "Should've known it. She's loyal to that Tony whatshisface, I'll give her that." Meatball laid down nearby with a grunt.

"Seems like a stand-up broad." Pappy remained standing next to him. "Not usually your type."

"Maybe that's what has me so damned confused."

"You weren't thinking of offing yourself, were you? Staring at the ocean like that?" Pappy teased.

"I thought the cold water might do me some good," Bobby said grimly.

Pappy settled on his haunches beside him. "Let me tell you something, Anderson. I know you don't believe me, but you've got to listen to me."

Bobby looked over at his friend and mentor. "What's that, Pappy?"

Boyington seemed to stare off across the water for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I was in love. Once." At Bobby's startled look, he laughed. "Didn't know that, did you?"

"Well, it's just that . . . you never . . ." Bobby stammered.

Pappy waved his hand. "It was awhile back in China. I was going to marry her. Bought a ring and everything. But, when I went to pick her up for the ceremony, she was gone. Took my ring and hocked it. Left me a note. Said it was a mistake. We could both die tomorrow. You know, the usual."

"That's . . . awful." Bobby didn't know what else to say.

Pappy shrugged. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was right. Wartime was no time to start anything. Your emotions are all wound up and tensions always run high. If the two of you met back in the states, you probably wouldn't even give each other a second thought."

"It's not like that . . ."

Pappy shook his finger at him. "Yes. It is. You just forget about her. Too much of a temper and a general's daughter, to boot. Not to mention spoken for. And when you get up in that plane tomorrow, she better not even cross your mind? Because if she does, I'll know. And, I'll make sure I kick your ass when I get my hands on you, understand?"

Bobby rolled his eyes, but consented. "Understood."

Pappy stood with a groan. "Now, get some sleep. We're going to be busy for awhile now." Meatball happily followed his master back to camp.

Bobby was glad when he was gone. He had a lot to sort out and not enough time to do it.


	11. Chapter 11

Abby woke with a start, the last vestiges of another lust-filled dream waking her just when things were getting good. The sun streamed though the window, and she had to pee like a racehorse.

The night before came crashing down on her, and she wanted to hide under the covers until the war was over. Kissing her had accomplished one thing.

Now she had one more pilot to worry about.

Sighing hugely, she tossed the sheet back. Noting Donna was still curled up in her bed.

Abby looked at the clock. Five minutes until eight. Donna had duty at eight.

Abby shook her shoulder. "Donna? You better get up. Arant will put you on suspension if you're late again, remember? Donna?"

Donna didn't move, just stayed curled in the same position, the sheet tucked up underneath her chin.

Annoyance flared in Abby's chest. She shook harder. "Look, Donna, you can't mope forever."

Still, Donna didn't move, her dark lashes a stark contrast to her pale, pale skin.

Donna was always tan, enjoying the sun more than any of them.

Concerned, Abby pulled back the sheet. Donna was lying in a puddle of her own blood.

"Oh, crap, what did you _do_?" Abby whispered, checking for a pulse. Weak, but there. Racing into the hallway, she went for help.

* * *

Abby was furious. And, she really didn't know why except for the fact that _no man_ was worth going through what Donna was putting herself through. She wanted desperately to take it out on the woman, but she just looked so frail and helpless lying in the hospital bed, her skin just as white as the sheets, that Abby swallowed her angry words out of sheer will.

They got the bleeding stopped, but there was nothing they could do. The thin surgical utensil Donna had used to abort the baby had done so much damage, Dr. Reese didn't seem to think she could even have children in the future.

They hadn't told Donna that yet.

Now, Donna finally awoke late that evening and was telling Abby in a monotone voice what had happened.

Jim broke it off with her before she found out she was pregnant. When her suspicions were confirmed, she told him, and all he did was laugh at her, saying something along the lines of, 'well, how do I know it's mine?' and walking away.

Abby soothed her with meaningless words, made her take more pain meds and held her hand until she drifted back to sleep.

Then, she headed for the motor pool.

She knew they were back. She'd heard them come home an hour before, the droning of the Corsairs familiar to her ears. Briefly, she wondered if they all came back, but she pushed that thought from her mind.

Might make her feel less angry. And she _wanted_ to be angry.

Focusing on that, she sped towards their camp as dark was coming on.

They were in the Sheep Pen. Some sort of de-briefing meeting.

Abby didn't care. She just barged in.

"Major Boyington? I need to speak with Captain Gutterman, please." Her voice was clipped, but her anger was just about to blow.

Pappy stopped mid-sentence and stared at her. "We're in the middle of something."

"I need to speak with him . . . now." She used her voice that always reminded her of her dad giving orders.

Boyington shrugged and motioned. "OK, Jim. See what she wants."

"Can I see you outside, Captain?" she asked, trying her best to be civil.

Jim was leaned back in a chair, his feet propped on the table. "I don't take orders from you."

"She asked you nicely, Gutterman," Bobby's voice had a threatening quality to it as he stood in the back of the room, arms crossed. If he focused his energy into fighting Jim, he could ignore the reaction he had to her entering the room. She was even beautiful when she was angry!

And, just what the hell was going on?

Gutterman dug underneath his nails with his knife, unconcerned. "I don't take orders from you, either, Lieutenant. And whatever she needs to say, she can say in front of all of you."

Abby took a deep breath. "Fine. Your call." She stomped over to Gutterman, weaving her way through the other men until she was standing right in front of him. She tossed a sharp piece of metal on the table where it landed with a clang. Gutterman settled his chair back on all fours to look at it.

"What's this?"

"Donna used it to almost kill herself."

A brief shadow of uncertainty passed over his face, but was immediately gone. "Didn't take her for such a drama queen."

"She didn't stab herself with it. She used it to abort her baby. _Your_ baby. After you told her it probably wasn't yours anyway." Abby's voice was as cold as the steel lying on the table.

Gutterman had started to pick up the piece of equipment, but backed up, almost as if it had turned into a snake.

All eyes went from him, the sharp surgical tool then to Abby.

"Not only did your little flippant comments kill an unborn child, but Donna will never be able to have children. I hope you can live with yourself _Captain_ Gutterman." Abby turned around and left the room, leaving Donna's method of choice on the table.

The room was silent for a moment, everyone looking everywhere but at Gutterman.

He jumped to his feet and started to follow her.

Pappy jumped in front of him. "Let it go, Jim."

"No, god_damnit_, I won't!" He shoved his friend aside.

Everyone else clamored to their feet in anticipation.

Abby almost made it to her jeep when his angry shout made her whirl around. Jim was stomping towards her, everyone else hot on his heels.

He got right up in her face. "You can't blame me for that! I didn't _make_ her do it! How was I supposed to know she'd do something so . . . so stupid?"

She didn't back down. "You don't treat people like common play things, _Captain_! Just because you have a love-'em-and-leave-'em attitude, doesn't mean she does! Even so, you don't laugh at a woman who says she's pregnant with _your_ child!"

"What the hell was I supposed to do? Marry her?"

"You could have treated her with some respect. At least more than you had for her when you were merrily boffing her, too dumb to take any sort of protection to stop something like that from happening!"

He raised his hand, almost as if he were going to slap her. She stared back at him defiantly, daring him to.

Bobby had enough. He took a step forward.

"Anderson," Pappy said in a warning tone, reaching out and gripping his arm.

Abby was the first to back off. She climbed into the jeep. "If I see you around that hospital before she ships out, I swear, James Gutterman, I will throttle you myself." She angrily threw the jeep into gear and lurched back towards the hospital, gears grinding.

No one spoke. They just stared.

Pappy broke the silence. "C'mon, guys, let's go back inside. We've got to finish this meeting, so you'll know your asses from your armpits tomorrow."  
Gutterman stormed through the crowd. "Anderson, if you don't control your woman, she's gonna wind up in a mess of hurt."

Anderson lunged, but Jerry and Casey grabbed him and held him back.

Pappy stepped in between the two men. "OK, both of you, stop it! None of this has to do with our real mission, which is to get rid of that ground flack on that island. You hear me? Both of you?"

After a moment, they both nodded.

"Good. Now, get back in there. All of you."

Muttering, they all went back inside to continue the meeting in a tense silence.

* * *

Although part of her wanted Bobby to stay away, she figured he'd show up eventually.

And, she was right.

Her heart skipped a beat when he walked rather hesitantly into the ward later that evening. When he spotted her at the other side of the room, his face lit up.

As angry as she was at Jim, and at herself for that matter for the whole kissing incident, she was glad to see him, too.

But, damned, if he'd know that.

She was reviewing a patient's chart and took her sweet time, mainly because it gave her a moment to collect herself, her hormones running wild after remembering the night before. Trying desperately to push such useless emotions aside, she focused on her anger again against Jim and the still form in the cot behind a privacy curtain.

There. That helped.

Abby hung the chart on the hook at the end of the bed with a clank and met Bobby halfway across the ward. He started to smile at her until she spoke.

"What do you want?" she asked in a low voice.

He looked taken aback for a moment, his smile fading. "I . . . uh . . .wanted to see if you were doing . . . see how Donna was . . ." He took a deep breath. "How is she? Donna?"

Abby stuck her pencil behind her ear as she spoke. "As good as can be expected, I guess. She's leaving on a transport plane day after tomorrow, recuperate on Esprito, then probably be discharged."

"Helluva way to get sent home." Bobby really did look upset about it, and some of her anger faded. Against her will, of course.

"At least it's not in a body bag. No man is worth that." When one of the patients tossed in his sleep, she took Bobby by the arm and steered him towards the front office. It was empty this time of night, and they could finish their conversation without interrupting anyone's sleep.

Once in the well-lit room, they stared at each other uncomfortably, Abby's arms crossed in front of her protectively.

He broke the silence. "About last night . . ."

"I don't want to talk about it," Abby interrupted, immediately straightening files on the desk that didn't really need to be straightened, anything to keep her mind occupied against the feelings that had haunted her since the night before. And even before that, if she allowed herself to admit it.

He cleared his throat. "I figured you'd say that."

"Well, nice to know you have me all figured out." She couldn't help it. Sarcasm was one of her most used – and highly unappreciative – character traits.

He didn't comment, and she looked at him again. He looked exhausted. "You need to get some sleep," she pointed out, trying not to sound concerned.

"Gee, thanks for noticing," he smiled again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

These missions they were on lately were taking their toll, rather he would admit it or not.

"I still think we need to talk about it, to work things through." His voice almost pleaded.

Abby held up a hand. "There's nothing to discuss. It was a . . .mistake." He winced, but she kept going. "I shouldn't have gotten caught up in the moment like I did, and I apologize for leading you on. But, I'm engaged. I have no right to be . . . to be acting like a . . . like I . . ."

"Like you actually care for someone?" His voice had a hard edge to it.

She felt her eyes well, but fought it, pressing her lips together in a firm line. "Please, Bobby, don't make this harder than it already is."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Fine. If that's the way it has to be, then that's what I'll do." He looked at her directly. "But, I'll tell you now, I'm not likely to forget about it. Not for a good long while."

He left without a backward glance, leaving Abby to process what had just happened.

And wonder if deep down, if it was what _she_ really wanted.

* * *

Abby tried to say her good-byes to Donna at the hospital, but she would have none of it. She insisted Abby ride in the ambulance with her and her bags to the airstrip.

She hadn't heard the Corsairs leave yet that morning, although their coming-and-going had been constant. Abby was willing to bet Bobby wasn't getting anymore sleep than she was, although he had a good excuse with all the crazy missions they were running lately.

Abby's excuse was a little more personal. She had withdrawn into herself lately, returning to the safety of her own mind since Bobby had walked out of the hospital. The other nurses assumed it had to do with Donna and left her alone.

But, it wasn't all because of Donna.

She missed Bobby. She hadn't realized how accustomed she was to seeing him, to having him make her laugh with some funny story or just having him next to her as they sat along the lagoon beach.

And, it pissed her off that she felt that way. Hell, she never missed Tony like that at all!

But, Tony still stared out at her from the obligatory picture on her nightstand. She should have felt guilty about kissing Bobby, but didn't. And, that in and of itself made her feel guilty.

Did that make any sense? Feeling guilty because she _didn't_ feel guilty?

Who knows? But, she didn't like the confusion one bit.

That's how she found herself riding in the back of that ambulance with Donna, agreeing to see her off at the airstrip while not admitting part of her wanted to see Bobby. To make sure he was alright. Still among the living.

Although she hoped someone would have told her if he wasn't.

She and Donna spoke of inconsequential things – the weather, her trip home, what she would do when she got there. Abby wondered if it had sunk in at all about her inability to have children. She had often voiced that she wanted a houseful of them.

Abby hoped she'd be able to cope.

The Corsairs were still on the ground, Hutch working fiercely. But, there were new faces. Apparently, the rumors Abby had heard about the Marine paratroopers taking over the camp, along with their formidable general who was running this entire operation, were true.

As Abby climbed out of the ambulance, there were whistles and catcalls all around. She ignored them all as she helped Donna out, taking her bag. The rest of her belongings had been shipped ahead.

The soldier in charge of boarding was waiting, his clipboard in hand, as they walked slowly across the tarmac, Donna hanging heavily onto her arm.

Abby spotted the pilots watching at a distance, obviously waiting on the transport to take off, so they could continue with their endless mission of trying to bombard the enemy island to allow the paratroopers time to make their move.

She focused all of her energy on Donna, talking brightly of returning home and how nice it would be to see family again. She hoped it would keep Donna's attention away from the small crowd of pilots watching them soberly.

Donna hugged her when they got to stairwell. "Thanks, Abby. For everything. You've been such a good friend . . ." Donna teared up.

Abby cut her off. No time for theatrics. "Take care of yourself, Donna," she said gently.

Donna nodded, blonde curls bouncing. "I will. I promise."

Someone cleared their throat nearby. Someone male. She sighed and turned.

It was Jim. Abby's anger immediately skyrocketed. As far as she knew, Jim had taken her threat seriously and stayed away from the hospital.

Although it was probably because he couldn't face what had happened. The big chicken.

She glanced at Donna. "Do you want to?"

Donna shook her head, biting her lip to keep from crying. "What good would it do now?" she whispered.

Abby gave Jim a dirty look as he started closer, but he kept coming.

Working fast, Abby hustled Donna onto the plane with promises to keep in touch.

Abby whirled around as the corporal climbed aboard behind Donna. "Back off, Captain. She doesn't want to see you."  
Gutterman eyed her maliciously. "Butt out, Miss High and Mighty."

But, the doors were already shut. They both backed off as the plane positioned itself to take off down the dirt runway.

"You have no right to interfere," Gutterman growled as the plane gained altitude.

"You're right. I don't. But, she obviously has such a poor track record with men, someone needed to intervene."

Abby turned to go, but he roughly grabbed her arm.

_Oh, he shouldn't have done that_ . . . Abby balled her fist, ready to fight back.

She didn't know where Bobby came from, but Jim was flat on his back with a bleeding lip before she could do anything. But, just as fast, Gutterman was on his feet, coming after Bobby.

Some of the paratroopers crowded around, egging them on, but French and Jerry kept them apart, T.J. standing between them, talking them out of an all-out fight.

Abby didn't stay to see how it turned out. She backed away, undetected and climbed into the cab of the ambulance next to the driver.

"Go! Now!"

He cranked it up with a loud roar.

"Abby. . ."

Gears grinding drowned the rest of it out, for which Abby was grateful. She watched as Bobby's form grew smaller and smaller in the mirror.


	12. Chapter 12

It was not unusual to have puffs of smoke occasionally from the engines. Hutch did the best he could with the equipment he had, and he most certainly knew what he was doing. It wasn't often that equipment failure caused the loss of plane or pilot.

Maybe today just wasn't his lucky day.

"Uh, guys, I have a little problem here," Bobby spoke to anyone who would listen as the white smoke poured from his engine, blinding him. They had already made one pass over that damned little island, but the Japanese entrenchments kept right on flinging everything they had at them. Which was too much, considering how many tons of firepower they had dumped on them all week.

"Anderson, go back out towards the water and ditch it there." Pappy always stressed the importance of coaxing their injured planes back home, so this must be bad. Very bad.

Trying very hard not to panic, Anderson tried the controls. They wouldn't budge. He just kept losing altitude. Of course, he couldn't see the ground getting closer and closer due to the smoke from the incendiaries they had dumped on the island, but he most certainly could tell from the spinning dials on the control panel. "I can't! Controls are stuck! I'll have to try to land it here!"

Land? Ha!

More like crash.

He couldn't see anything at all, the coughing engine smoking for all it was worth. Running on training and pure instinct, he threw back the cockpit hatch, a blast of acrid smoke hitting him square in the face. The ping-ping of flack hitting the plane from the ground also made his stomach sour.

"Bobby, dammit, answer me!"

He kept hearing his name over the radio, but didn't have time to reply. He couldn't see any of them, anyway.

Praying he was reading the altitude correctly, as well as praying a Japanese sniper wouldn't get him, or he wouldn't land in the middle of a nest of them having to spend the rest of the war in a POW camp, he made sure his parachute was strapped on, struggled to the edge and jumped free.

He always hated the training they did for this. Now, he struggled to remember it, wishing he had paid more attention.

Oh yeah, count to ten.

One – two – three . . .

However, once he cleared the smoke from his plane, which was now lazily dropping to the ground behind him, he saw he was just a tad closer to the ground than he thought he was.

Panicked, he snatched the rip cord, his entire body jerking as the parachute deployed. But, he was still falling faster than he would like, slamming into the trees about the time he heard the distant roar of his Corsair, which had crashed into the ground nearby, smoke still thick overhead.

Then, he heard no more.

* * *

Hutch was halfway inside an engine when the Black Sheep returned, so he forgot to pull out his binoculars and count how many made it back. Honestly, his eyes were so bleary from lack of sleep due to this crazy campaign that damned General Hutton was on that he didn't know if he could see them anyway.

However, once he heard them land, he made sure to crawl out of the engine compartment and greet them.

Meatball was already trotting out onto the airstrip, tail wagging, as the figures straggled from their planes.

"Alright, guys! Heard you did a bang-up job out there!" He called out to Casey.

But, Casey didn't reply, just stoically trudged by.

Hutch scratched his head, then spotted Jim. "Hey, Gutterman! That crazy general actually cracked a smile when he heard how many placements you got today!"

Gutterman just shook his head and kept going. All of them walked by just as stoically as Casey.

"Guys?"

He counted planes.

And, it hit him. "Hey, where's Bob?"

No one answered.

He peered at the place where Anderson's plane usually sat. It was empty.

"Engine blew," Pappy growled.

Hutch slammed his gloves onto the ground in disgust.

"Son of a _bitch_!"

* * *

She heard the planes that afternoon. Automatically, she glanced out, quickly counting.

There was one missing.

To say she was terrified was an understatement. A cold fear gripped her heart, and for a moment, she almost couldn't breathe.

Who was it? Who hadn't made it back?

And, dammit, why did she care?

Her first reaction was to run pell-mell towards their camp to see for herself.

_Calm down, Abby. Take a deep breath_.

Sure, they could have been shot down, but survived, fished out of the ocean by a passing Navy ship. Happened all the time. Or, they could be lagging behind if the plane was injured . . . nope, then there would be two missing. The wingman always lagged with the injured plane.

_Jimmy. Just like Jimmy._

"Nurse? Nurse, are you OK?"

Abby didn't realize it, but she had crumpled the letter she was reading to an injured soldier in her clenched fist.

She smoothed it out with shaking hands. "I'm fine, Corporal. Now, where were we?" Her voice shook, too, and frustrated at her emotional reaction, she grabbed onto her self control the best she could and continued reading the letter aloud.

She would find out soon enough.

* * *

"Then, what did he say?" French asked, eyes wide.

"He said he'd have me court-martialed. But, I told him to go right ahead. I'd rather be drummed out of the Corps than see anymore of my men go down like that." Pappy rubbed his hand over his face wearily. "Hand me a beer, will ya?"

Someone handed one over, and he drank the entire bottle down, lukewarm or not.

"So, we're not going out in the morning, huh?" T.J. asked warily.

"Nope. Not until Hutch can do the proper maintenance on those planes."

"What about the big push he and those paratroopers are scheduled for?" Jerry asked, his hands wrapped around his own beer.

"Guess they'll have to wait," Pappy shrugged.

The Sheep Pen was silent. No juke box. No raucous stories. Even Bonzai the crow was quiet, seeming to sense their dark mood.

"Maybe we missed something . . ." T.J. started.

"We flew over that damn island ten times! There was no sign of a chute or him or nothing!" Gutterman protested.

"I just don't see why he wouldn't of jumped," Casey said, more to himself.

"Maybe he thought he could get it down himself." French didn't like to think about it. And, having all of Anderson's stuff – everything that he owned in this world – crammed into the duffle right in front of them didn't help. "Hell, maybe he did jump. It was so smoky, it was hard to tell."

Gutterman took another pull out of his bottle and met Pappy's gaze. "Someone's got to tell her."  
Casey was momentarily confused. "Who? That red-head? I thought she was seeing you."

T.J. rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Not Barbara. Abby." He had dreaded the thought of telling her, wasn't really sure what her reaction would be.

"But, I thought she was engaged. . . ." Casey always stayed out of everyone's business, so it took him a moment to realize what had been going on. "Oh," he finished lamely.

Pappy stood wearily. "Since I'm writing his parents, I'll do that, too."

"I'm going with you," T.J. announced.

Pappy almost protested, but finally relented. "Fine. Meet me outside in 10 minutes. I'm going to check on Hutch first."

* * *

Abby couldn't concentrate on her book. Dusk was settling on the island, and still no word. Maybe some of the other nurses knew, but they weren't telling her.

And, she was too afraid to ask. Now that she temporarily had the room to herself, she stayed in it when she wasn't on duty.

That's right. She was chicken, too. Of making friends. And having them die. Or, worse, try to kill themselves by their own hand.

Like Donna.

_Bobby, you better not be dead._

It was disloyal to Tony and foolish of her, but she was terrified for him. And, the thought of him meeting the same frightening end as her brother was the worst of all . . .

The quiet knock almost made her jump out of her skin.

Feeling as if the door were hundreds of yards away instead of a few feet, she cautiously opened it.

Major Boyington and T.J. stared back at her nervously.

_Oh, no . . ._

Her first instinct was to burst into tears. But, she couldn't do that. Not now. Not with them standing there. Automatically, she sat with a thump on Donna's bed as her knees gave out from astonishment, still staring at them.

Hesitantly, they entered, shutting the door behind them. Boyington pulled a chair out from underneath her desk and made himself at home, while T.J. stood nearby, looking like he would rather be anywhere but there.

She was quickly losing patience with their silence, her mind practically tripping over itself to comprehend what was going on. "What happened? Is it Bobby? Tell me, for god's sakes!"

Pappy cleared his throat. "His engine failed. Over that island. There was lots of smoke. We couldn't see and hoped he had chuted out of there. But, we made pass after pass, and we didn't see anything. Any sign of him at all."

"That doesn't mean he still couldn't have been down there," T.J. interrupted.

Boyington gave him a dirty look, then returned his gaze to Abby.

She clenched her fists in anger, snatches of an overheard conversation returning to her. "That General. Hutton. He hadn't given you time to work on your planes." Anger was good. She grabbed ahold of it with both hands. It kept her from breaking down, crying for a man she pushed away, a man she never should have gotten to know.

"It's my fault, too. I knew better, but followed my orders like a good little soldier. But, not now. All the planes are grounded. And, apparently, I'm out of the Corps." He stopped. "But, that's all a little too late for Bobby."

Abby felt tears welling and used her fist to push them away as her heart pounded. Boyington looked uncomfortable again. "I wanted you to hear from us what happened. I know the two of you didn't always get along, but I think that he really . . ."  
"Stop, please," Abby asked quietly, taking a deep breath to keep from sobbing aloud. _God, not Bobby, too_! "I . . . appreciate you . . . thinking of me. And, none of this . . . is your fault." _That's right. Deep breaths. Keep it together_.

For once, she saw Boyington as the leader he was, the sorrow on his own face just barely visible, not the laid-pack jokester the Marines were always trying to rid themselves of. Through her own pain, she recognized how good he actually was.

He stood, making sure to put the chair back where it belonged. "Let us know if you need anything."

Still fighting tears, Abby managed a small 'thank you' as he tromped out of the room.

T.J. took a step forward. "Abby, he means it. If you need anything at all . . ."

Abby couldn't take it. "What I need is to go back in time and keep my promise to myself – that I would not get to know _any_ of you! At _all_! So, unless you can help me with that, then no, I don't need your help."

She avoided looking at T.J.'s hurt expression. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he shook his head and saw himself out.

Abby sat on the naked mattress for a long time, watching the shadows on the wall grow darker as the sun set.


	13. Chapter 13

When Bobby started to come around, he realized he had never hurt so badly in his life. Wiping his forehead, his fingers came back sticky with blood. And something sure as hell was wrong with his left leg. It hurt like the dickens, even when he moved it slightly.

And, then he realized he wasn't alone.

Fumbling for his pistol, he sat straight up, trying his best to ignore the screaming pain in his temple.

But, it couldn't be any worse than what those Japs would do to him in a POW camp . . .

"Whoa! Not enemy – friend." The little man held both of his hands up in a gesture of peace. Wearing a dingy flowered shirt that had seen better days and ragged pants, he was almost comical looking. Not threatening at all. He didn't even have a weapon!

Bobby almost started laughing maniacally in relief, but figured that would make his head even worse. "Who're you?"

"Coast watcher. Saw your plane go down. Had to find you before the Japanese did." He cautiously put his hands down. "Got to stand. Get out of here."

"You've got to be kidding!" Bobby protested as the little fellow bustled around, getting him on his feet. "Ow, ow, _ow_!"

But, now he was standing, leaning heavily on this guy who persistently bugged him to put one foot in front of the other.

It was a heavily-wooded area and very dark, even with the sun still low in the west, but the coast watcher seemed to know where he was going, stepping sure-footedly through the thick underbrush, practically dragging him along.

They came to an extremely thick stand of trees, Bobby thinking there was no way they would go any further.

But, the guide pressed forward through them, the branches scratching Bobby's already bruised face, until they came to a small camp. Tent, fire, belongings - everything a man needed to feel right at home. And right in the middle of the thickest part of the woods.

The coast watcher sat him down by the fire, then rooted around in some boxes until he came up with some medical supplies.

"You lucky. Very lucky," he kept saying as he inspected a large cut on Bobby's right temple.

Bobby resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. _Sure_, he was lucky. His plane was down, he was in enemy territory, and as far as he could tell, the only thing between him and an enemy POW camp was this strange-looking fellow who knew broken English.

Strange how this day didn't start like this.

And, for some reason, this situation reminded him of another time not that long ago when Abby was this close to him, setting his broken nose that _she_ gave him . . .

Oh, _hell_!

As his new friend bustled about, clucking over his ankle, which he said was only a sprain, and bandaging his cuts and bruises, Bobby tried not to imagine what she was going through.

If she even cared, that was. Maybe when she heard his plane was down, she just shrugged and went on about her day. She never reacted like he expected her to, and perhaps that what drew him to her to begin with. That, and the fact she was the sexiest woman he'd seen in a good long while.

But, it was only a couple days ago since the night at the Sheep Pen. She had to care. Just a little bit. No one could kiss like that and _not_ care.

And if that damn Tony wasn't in the picture, he might just have a chance!

Except now, he was stuck here on this crazy island eating God knows what this little man handed him with no clue how to get off it.

"Who's that?" Al asked. At least, that's what Bobby was calling him in his mind. The coast watcher's real name was too hard to remember, especially to his aching head.

When Bobby didn't answer right off, he leaned in closer to inspect the photo. "Ahhh. Pretty girl."

Bobby was propped up on a rock, his flight jacket balled up behind him to keep it from hurting his back. He shifted uncomfortably as he glanced at the photo in the flickering firelight.

"She yours?" Al looked at him, weathered face curious.

Bobby tapped the photo – his favorite from their day at the beach – on his fingertips. "She doesn't belong to anybody."

Al blinked, deep in thought. "She likes you."

Bobby snorted. "Some days."

Al shrugged. "Can tell from photo."

Bobby studied it again, although he knew every inch of it. It was one of the last ones on the roll, right before the Japanese kates came swarming. They were still standing in their formal dance pose, but had stopped, bodies still touching. He had reached down to brush her hair away from her cheek, and she was looking up at him, her guard down obviously. She actually had a soft look on her face as she gazed at him. Bobby could still feel the way her body moved underneath his hands as they did their crazy dance across the sand and the way her laughter echoed off the beach.

How could she look at him like that in the photo and _not_ care about him?

Bobby didn't know any of the answers. Plus, it made his already aching head hurt worse.

He kept this picture with him in the pocket of his flight suit. He didn't know why, but he did. Sometimes, he pulled it out and propped it up and looked at it while they were in flight. Again, he didn't know why, but he did. Maybe because it just made that ache in the pit of his stomach that he figured was fear ease off just a bit.

If Pappy knew, he'd probably make good on his threat to kick his ass. But, then again, Pappy probably already knew. He knew everything that went on with his pilots.

Uncomfortable with discussing Abby with this stranger, Bobby abruptly changed the subject as he slipped the picture back in his flight suit pocket. "Why are you doing this? Helping me?"

Al didn't seem to be fazed by the about-face in their topics. "Didn't like how the Japanese are handling this. Support the Allies instead."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"Not dangerous. Just report what I see to both sides as I see it." His eyes twinkled for a moment. "If I find American pilot, then what they don't know won't hurt them."

Bobby smiled at his attempt at levity. "Well, I'm sure glad you came along when you did."

"Japanese looking for you. Saw the plane go down and saw the other planes flying low, looking. But, they don't move as fast as I do through the brush."

_So, the squadron thought he was dead._

_That meant Abby thought he was dead, too_.

He didn't realize Al was still talking away, " . . . saw the planes bomb everyday. But, they bomb the wrong place . . ."

Bobby suddenly was all ears. "Wait! What was that? About bombing the wrong place?"

Al looked at him like he was dumb. "They're in that mountain. Can't bomb a mountain." He pointed off to their north, but because of the overgrown vegetation, Bobby couldn't see this mountain. Although he had seen plenty of it from the air. "Have to bomb the entrance. Just on the south side. That'll trap them."

"Bomb the entrance – of _course_! But, we didn't know where it was. How could we?" His momentary burst of excitement faded at the thought of all the wasted manpower.

"I tried to radio, but no one responded. Plus, I couldn't try long, or the Japanese would know. Very bad."

His head injury must be making him slow. "What was that? A radio? You have a _radio_?"

Al motioned towards what Bobby thought was an old-Army issue tarp covering supplies. "Sure. How'm I supposed to be a coast watcher without a way to tell what I'm watching?"

Bobby couldn't believe it! "Listen. I have an idea."

* * *

It was fully dark by the time Abby quietly left her room. She was drawn to that lagoon something fierce. Maybe it was because it was where she and Bobby seemed to always wind up. Or maybe because it was so peaceful.

The balmy breeze was light tonight, and she could hear sounds of nocturnal wildlife foraging in the woods. Nothing to be afraid of. Just small rodents.

The sand felt cool on her now-bare feet, and she wiggled her toes absently as the water rippled against them.

Bobby was gone. It was hard to believe. She shouldn't be feeling like this – so sad, so . . . so alone. Nothing had changed in her world. She was still here. Her two brothers were still in France and the South Pacific. Her mother back home in the States, and her father bossing people around on some boat. Jimmy was still dead. And Tony was still safely sitting behind his desk.

Abby sat in the sand, her knees drawn up to her chin. She had no right to feel this way! She should have _known_ better! Getting to know any of these pilots was a bad idea, and she knew it! But, what did she do? Practically throw herself at the one that pissed her off the most. She was caught up in his smile, the way his dark eyes sparkled when he teased her and the way he tried to hide his emotions about the loss of his friend weeks before. The way he comforted her when Jimmy died. The way he kissed, the rough feel of his hands against her bare skin . . .

Abby beat her fist on the ground once in frustration. _None_ of it mattered. Not anymore. He was gone, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

The hot tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

When someone sat down beside her, for one happy moment, she thought it was Bobby, laughing about his latest escapade, teasing her.

But, it wasn't Bobby. It couldn't be. He was dead.

It was T.J.

She kept her face turned away, ashamed for being caught crying.

"You OK?" he finally asked hesitantly.

"It's so _unfair_! First, he makes me befriend him, then he goes off and . . . and _dies_ on me!" She sounded irrational, but didn't care. "That's why I don't like you pilots."  
"Everyone dies, Abby," T.J. said reasonably enough.

"Well, I'm glad you realize that," Abby sassed, using sarcasm to hide her pain. "But, it's hard enough having all the immediate male members of my family throw themselves in harm's way without having to worry about any more of _you_!"

T.J. didn't comment, and her momentary burst of annoyance faded, the pain of her loss piercing it like a deflating balloon.

"Seems to be a sad way to live. Always afraid of what could happen, and never getting close to people because of it."

The moon was reflected off the water, and its reflection was rippling with the incoming tide. "Bobby said the same thing." The way they both worded it really did make it sound so ridiculous.

He slipped something in her hand. "I thought you might want these. We found them with his things."

She stared at the plain brown envelope, curious, but then again, not. Slowly, she reached over and undid the clasp, spilling the contents out onto her hand.

She was looking at . . . herself.

He never showed her these. The pictures from the beach. First, they were sitting together, looking at his pictures. Some they were laughing. Some they were dancing.

_Nice to know I'm not the only one on this rock who can't dance_.

The pictures blurred, and she blinked away her tears. She had become so comfortable with him, had learned to expect him to be there, even against her better judgment.

She didn't even realize T.J. had slipped away as she thumbed through them, lost in her memories.

* * *

Abby never was one to sit around feeling sorry for herself for long. Since the hospital was still sparkling from when she had tried to clean her sorrow away from her brother's death, she headed for the airstrip, ignoring the pangs when she spotted the places she would always associate with Bobby.

She had the envelope of pictures stuffed in her back pocket. She'd deal with that later.

Hutch was elbow deep in an engine, cursing under his breath. The moonlight didn't help much, so he had one lone spotlight illuminating the pieces he was inspecting on the ground.

"You'll ruin your eyes working with such poor light," she pointed out sensibly.

He squinted up at her, wincing at the kinks in his neck. "Well, Captain, I don't have much of a choice, do I? Plus, it'll be dawn soon. I think." He looked around, almost as if he was just realizing that it was dark out and had been for hours.

Abby cleared her throat nervously. "Need some help?"

"Sure, from about ten experienced mechanics," Hutch scoffed, wiping his hands on an equally-filthy rag. "What's it to ya?"

"I'm not ten mechanics, but I can help."

He narrowed his eyes. "You? A woman? A woman _nurse_?"

Abby expected this. "When my brothers were in shop class, guess who they took all their small engines to be repaired, so they wouldn't fail the course?"

"You, I'm guessing?"

She managed a smile. "Right."

He didn't look convinced. "Why do this? For us?"

"Because I have a few days off. And because I don't want what happened to Bobby to happen to anyone else." She met his gaze, proud that tears didn't spring to her eyes. Maybe she'd be alright after all.

He seemed to think about her offer. "Fine. That one over there needs an oil change. You do that well, and we'll step it up a notch."

Abby nodded and headed to the plane he indicated. It was Don French's plane. She got to work, glad to have something to occupy her mind and ignore the sorrow in her heart.


	14. Chapter 14

The Black Sheep showed up around dawn, General Frank Hutton hot on their heels. "Whatta you mean you can only take out eight planes? We need all of them. Now!"

Abby didn't even glance up. Hutch was impressed with her oil-changing abilities, and now she had graduated to changing a cylinder on Casey's engine.

"Hutch has only serviced eight of them. And, you're lucky he has that many. We got some help last night."

The general was not impressed. "Eight? You can't bomb those Japs out with _eight_? Hell, you hadn't been able to do it all week with a full regiment of them!"

By now, they had stopped close to Casey's plane, interrupting Abby's concentration. She scowled at the broken down engine in front of her, biting the inside of her check in frustration. Her knees were killing her as she knelt on the wing of this plane, and her butt had been sticking straight up in the air for hours.

But, at least she wasn't thinking. About Bobby, that is.

"Help? What kind of help? I thought Esprito wasn't sending anyone else out here." The general kept harping.

"Well, what do you know, General," Pappy's voice had a sing-song ring to it, and Abby rolled her eyes. _Great. Just great._

"Here's Hutch's little helper now. Come say hi to General Hutton, Captain."

"Captain? What's a _captain_ doing in the mechanic corps?" the general bellowed. He did a lot of that.

"I'm a little busy now, Major. Perhaps some other time." Abby made a noise of approval when the cylinder finally slid into place.

"_What_? A _woman_? Is that a _woman_ working on that plane?" Hutton blustered. "Get down right here and address me properly, Captain! If you really are a captain."

Abby was tired, grungy and heart-sore. Wiping her greasy palms on her pants, she jumped from the wing of the plane. "I am most certainly a captain. Captain Abigail Reilly with the U.S. Naval Hospital to be exact, _General_." She threw him a half-hearted salute. "If you really are a general." Generals didn't scare her. She grew up with an admiral and knew they were mostly full of hot air.

There were a few snickers from the Black Sheep.

Hutton looked like he was preparing to blow a gasket. "What kind of joke is this? A Navy _nurse_ working on a Marine plane? This isn't funny, Boyington."

"It's not a joke, sir," Pappy answered somberly. "She offered, and seeing as that you were so hell-bent on running this mission, despite the fact that half of the planes wouldn't have made it back, we took her up on it."

Hutton opened and shut his mouth several times, dumbfounded. "How do _you_ know _she_ knows what she's doing?" he finally asked Pappy.

"Excuse me, General, but I'm right here. You don't have to talk over my head." She had focused a lot of her anger on what happened to Bobby on this man, and she relished any chance to tear into him, dishonorable discharge or not. "Furthermore, it doesn't seem as if you care one way or the other if I know what I'm doing or if any or all of these pilots go down or not as long as your _precious_ mission is still underway. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll just get back to work."

The General's face was purple with rage. "I'll have you thrown out of the Navy for this, young lady!"

By now, Abby had climbed back onto the wing and picked up her tools. "Go right ahead. Just make sure you run it by Admiral Reilly first." She never played the daddy card, but this guy was grating on her nerves. She'd already lost her concentration on this engine enough as it was, thinking about Bobby.

Hutton hated to be bested. He knew of Admiral Reilly, who had one more star than he did. "Damned women shouldn't even be _allowed_ in the armed forces. Even the Navy!" he bellowed to whoever would listen.

"I don't think she likes you very much, General," Pappy commented, trying not to act amused.

The other Black Sheep were trying not to smile or snicker, as well. At least the General's anger was pointed at her and not them.

"I like the General about as much as he likes being here," Abby said from deep within the engine. Her wrench slipped, and she scraped her knuckles on it, cursing like a sailor underneath her breath.

Pappy took the General by the arm before he could comment. "Now, don't you think you better brief the eight of us who are going out today, so we'll know the game plan." He led him away from Abby and her attitude, the other Black Sheep following.

Except T.J.

"Cleaning hospitals to fixing engines, huh?" He shaded his eyes against the early morning sun. He wasn't flying today, but agreed to man the radio at camp for the invasion. Pappy, who was getting ready for his court martial for refusing to take the planes out, was also staying behind

Abby kept right on putting Casey's engine back together. "As long as I keep my mind occupied, it doesn't matter, does it?"

T.J. left her alone.

* * *

Abby heard the Corsairs take off, followed by the transport plane carrying the paratroopers, who didn't miss a chance to hoot and holler at her as she tried to jostle the tail flap controls on another plane, trying to figure out why it was sticking.

She ignored them all.

The next engine, T.J's, was a little more involved. She mumbled to herself as she worked, trying to figure out why it was leaking oil from a very unusual spot as she took it apart entirely.

Anyone that heard her would probably think she was crazy. Hell, she probably was! But, if this is what it took to keep her from thinking about Bobby, then this is what she'd do.

* * *

T.J. listened on the radio as the battle raged. The paratroopers made it on the island under heavy fire and were holed up near the mountain. The Black Sheep were trying in vain to bomb out the Japanese, easing the fire on the paratroopers, to no avail.

Frustrated, especially because Pappy was pacing behind him, smoking like a freight train and demanding to know what was going on every 10 seconds, T.J. switched channels, hoping to pick up a channel the General was using.

The voice he heard made him stop, his hand still on the dial. He pressed the headphones to his ear to make sure he was hearing what he thought he was.

". . . Anderson, Black Sheep, United States Marine Corps. Is anyone out there?"

T.J. gave a loud whoop, causing Meatball to jump up and growl.

Pappy was immediately by his side. "What is it? What's going on?"

"It's Bobby! He's alive!" T.J. fiddled with the knobs to get a better signal, picking up the microphone and switching it to intercom so Pappy could hear.

"Bobby! It's T.J.! You old SOB, we thought you were a goner!"

"You're not that lucky, T.J. I'm not leaving 'til you pay me that $10 bucks you owe me." His voice sounded teeny coming from the radio.

"Where in the world are you, Anderson?" Pappy asked, risking a smile himself.

"I'm on this damned island with this little coast watcher who has some information you may need." Swiftly, he told them about hitting the entrance and where it was on the mountain.

"Anderson, I swear, if you get off that island alive, I will personal see you get 72 hours on Esprito."

"I'll take your word for it, Pappy!"

"T.J.! Contact the general and tell them to radio the Black Sheep!"

T.J. was already working frantically.

But, there was no answer from the paratroopers. He threw the headphones down in disgust. "No response."

But, Pappy was already out the door.

* * *

Disinterestedly, Abby heard Pappy leave in the only working plane on the base: the General's personal transporter plane. She was still wrist-deep in T.J.'s engine, finally thinking she found the problem. A tiny hose that she'd honestly never heard of. And, finding another one proved to be a problem, but Hutch finally produced one for her.

Her arms ached, and she probably wouldn't be able to stand up straight for a week, but she was being useful. Helping out. And, in turn, forgetting, at least momentarily, that she was going to miss Robert Anderson something fierce.

* * *

"You big lug! I never thought I'd see you again!" The two men embraced with a lot of back slapping.

"I'm just glad to see anybody again!" Bobby said honestly.

There were introductions all around. Pappy got to the paratroopers in time to tell them about Bobby's insider information. They contacted the Black Sheep buzzing overhead, who took out the entrance to the enemy entrenchments in the mountain, stopping most of the ground fire immediately.

Bobby tried to convince Al to come with them, but he refused, saying he was happy enough on this island, helping where he could.

Stiffly, Bobby climbed into the passenger seat of the general's plane, favoring his injured ankle. Pappy was in a hurry to get off the island before the general caught him with his plane. Bobby couldn't argue. He wanted off just as fast as Pappy could fly.

"You settled back there?" Pappy asked as he climbed into the pilot's seat.

"Just get me outta here," Bobby answered.

Pappy grinned and turned the engine over. "You got it."

They safely took to the skies with a minimum of ground fire from the remaining Japanese holdouts.

"I know someone who'll be glad to see you," Pappy's voice was clear in his ear through the radio.

Bobby felt a rush, just knowing that she even cared. "Is she OK?"

"You'll see soon enough."

Anderson leaned back in the seat, trying to relax. He was exhausted beyond belief and his whole body hurt like hell.

But, he knew that tone. She was most certainly _not_ OK.

* * *

Abby was putting the finishing touches on T.J.'s engine, taking the chance to tune it a bit when she heard the plane nearing.

It wasn't the Corsairs, so she looked up. It was the general's transporter plane.

_At least Boyington brought it back in one piece_.

She heard a joyous whoop, followed by running feet, as the plane's engine's choked down. Apparently, Hutch was glad to see Pappy.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw T.J. come running, too.

Damn, did they always give Boyington such a welcome?

Shaking her head at the strangeness of men, she reimmersed herself in this engine, enjoying the simple aspect of taking something apart, and putting it back together, just as good as new - if not better.

Better than she could do on her own heart, wasn't it?

* * *

There was another round of back slapping and hand shaking on Vella La Cava. The other Black Sheep were enroute back to the airfield, so Bobby wasn't totally deluged.

"Back off, guys. We need to take him over to the hospital to get looked at," Pappy said.

"All I want is a shower and some clean clothes." _And to see Abby_. His eyes wandered around the tarmac, wondering if somehow, she'd be waiting for him.

"Well, uh, we sent your stuff home. Wrote your mother, too," Pappy looked a little sheepish.

His attention snapped back to the men in front of him. "My mother thinks I'm _dead_? C'mon, guys, you're kidding. Right?"

"I radioed ahead, and your gear'll be back here tomorrow morning. And, your mother should be getting another telegram right about now stating that the Marine Corps is sorry for the mistake, but your son is alive and well." T.J. couldn't help but grin.

"Hell, that's the best kind of mistake to make!" Bobby was practically giddy that he got out of this alive, not expecting to come out so well in the end. "And, you know, that hospital visit sounds like a plan to me."

T.J. and Hutch elbowed each other and snickered. "It's not the hospital he's wanting to see."  
Bobby stuck his chin out defiantly. "So what if it's not?"

"Well, boys, why don't you save Lieutenant Anderson the trouble?" Pappy motioned toward the grounded plane, engine parts scattered about.

"Huh?"

What Bobby didn't know was Abby was working on the other side, out of sight from the little reunion.

T.J. raced away towards a plane on the tarmac, Hutch close behind.


	15. Chapter 15

For those of you who've beeen following my little foray into Black Sheep territory, thanks a bunch! And, for those of you who are immensely familiar with rankings and such of the branches of the military, you will know I screwed all that up - especially the nurses. Thanks to The People's Sgt for setting me straight (in a nice way of course!). Since I'm lazy, I'm not going to go back and fix it, which is probably a big no-no. But, I did want all of you to know :-) Thanks for reading!

* * *

Abby was concentrating on one of the stripped bolts, carefully trying to unscrew it without losing it in the engine when T.J.'s excited voice practically yelled in her ear.

The bolt clanked down into the recesses of the engine.

"Son of a _bitch_, T.J.! Can't you give a girl some warning instead of hollering like a banshee?"

T.J. was breathless by the time he skidded to a stop. "I've got a surprise for you!"

Abby grabbed another wrench. "If you don't leave me alone, you'll find your engine and your plane will part ways next time you're in the air." She hunched over the hulk of metal, ready to dismiss him.

But, T.J. wasn't taking no for an answer. "Come with me, _now_, Captain! And that's an order!"

Abby gave him a no-nonsense look. "I don't know what you're up to T.J., but if you don't leave me alone . . ."

Hutch appeared out of no where and took the wrench from her. "You've been fired, Captain. I'll take over from here."

Her mouth fell open. "_What_? I _volunteered_! You can't fire _me_!"

Hutch merrily watched her fume. "Just go with T.J. Trust me on this."

Abby tossed her head, her hair flying out of its customary bun she had put it in that morning – no yesterday morning. "Fine. I'll go with T.J. But, I'm right back here to finish this engine."

Hutch laughed. "No, you won't, but go ahead. Whatever makes you feel better."

Abby grit her teeth in frustration, but jumped from the wing without any help from either men.

* * *

Bobby watched T.J., then Hutch talking animatedly to someone on the other side of the Corsair.

"What's going on?" he asked, fidgeting. He was ready to find Abby! Plus, he hurt like hell, and it took all he could to lean on the general's plane to stay upright.

Pappy just grinned. "If they get back in one piece, you'll find out soon enough."

When she walked out from around the plane, Bobby was speechless. Fuming at T.J., she was chattering away, giving him what for, not paying him or Pappy any attention as T.J. grinned like an idiot.

"You let her work on the _planes_?" he finally asked. God, even covered in grease and grime, she was still beautiful.

Pappy crossed his arms, preparing to watch the scene unfolding. "Couldn't keep her from them."

"She can work on _planes_?" There were new dimensions to her everyday. And the more he saw, the more he liked.

"Did a damn fine good job, too." You'd have thought Abby was one of Pappy's own men, the proud way he said it.

Now, they were closer, and he could hear what she was saying. ". . .show up here and expect me to drop what I'm doing – would you look at me and stop grinning like that! Will none of you ever take me seriously . . ." She glanced up to follow T.J.'s gaze, stopping dead in her tracks.

Was that really him leaned against that plane, head bandaged, giving her that damned lazy smile?

It couldn't be! She was delirious from lack of sleep or exhaustion or something . . . he was gone. Pappy wrote his parents, sent his luggage home. All she had left was the pictures . . .

"Hey, baby," he said softly.

Abby put a dirty hand over her mouth in shock, smearing grease across her face. Momentarily, she felt dizzy, but refused to pass out in front of them all. _That_ would be girlie of her. Her eyes welled, and she wanted to launch herself into his arms and never let him go.

She looked fragile standing there, strands of her hair blowing across her face, pure astonishment in her eyes. Bobby didn't realize it, but T.J. and Pappy had backed away, giving them some privacy. He noticed nothing but her.

"Bobby?" Her voice shook a bit. "Oh my God, Bobby, I can't _believe_ it! I just can't _believe_ it!" She couldn't. She had to face for 24 hours that he was gone, and her mind just wasn't grasping it. Although he was right in front of her. Standing right there.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he teased gently.

"I-I think I have," she answered softly. What happened to everything she wanted to tell him, everything she wished she had five more minutes with him to say? Now, she had it. And she just couldn't do it.

But, it didn't mean she still didn't want to prove to herself he was really here. Before she realized it, she launched herself towards him, and he had her arms around her, crushing her against him so hard, she almost couldn't breathe.

She wanted to cry, to yell, to laugh and dance! He was _alive_! Right _here_! Smelling of smoke and burning metal and all male, but right here!

Bobby felt giddy. He kissed the top of her head. "You're going to get dirty," he warned. It was all he could think to say.

"I'm already dirty," she said, her face buried in his filthy flight suit as she tried not to cry.

"I didn't know you had a mechanical streak. You never cease to amaze me . . ." There was so many other important things he wanted to say, but it was all he could manage.

Bobby thought it was the excitement of having her in his arms that had him so lightheaded. But, the dizziness persisted, and he swayed a bit on his feet as the pounding in his head intensified.

She pulled away. "Bobby?"

Despite leaning on the plane, he sank to the ground, his final thought thankful that he didn't have to deal with his pounding head.

* * *

Abby was suddenly all business, emotions set aside.

"T.J., go get my jeep. Bring it around." She knelt down beside Bobby without seeing if T.J. even complied. Deftly, she checked his pulse. Seemed a little weak to her, but she was trying hard to focus on him as a patient and not . . . and not whoever he was to her.

"C'mon, Bobby, wake up," She slapped him gently on the cheek, but he didn't move. Did he look a little pale? What were his injuries, anyway? There wasn't much she could do without any equipment.

Cursing for her thoughtlessness of not checking his injuries first, she looked up when T.J. roared toward her, the headlights momentarily blinding her. "Major, help me get him in that jeep."

Watching Abby work, he silently complied. But, before Abby could hoist him up by his legs, Pappy holding his shoulders, T.J. gently pushed her aside. Abby watched as they laid him in the back the best they could, his legs hanging off the side.

Silently, she jumped into the driver's seat.

Pappy was immediately by her side. "I'm driving."

"It's my jeep, I drive." And the more time they spent arguing, the more time before she could figure out what exactly was Bobby's problem.

Pappy pointed. "He's my pilot. I drive."

Abby started to protest, but relented. If there really was something wrong with him, then they were wasting precious moments arguing. She scooted into the passenger seat as he climbed into the driver's side, deftly throwing the jeep into gear as the other Corsairs roared overhead.

"T.J., radio the hospital. Tell them we're coming," Pappy ordered.

Abby sat uncomfortably turned around in the seat, so she could get an eye on him. The blood on the bandage wrapped around his head was bright red, in deep contrast with his pale skin.

His hand felt cool, and she squeezed it, hoping for a sign. He didn't squeeze back.

"What do you think?" Pappy yelled over the wind and the roar of the engine.

"Concussion," she answered simply, ignoring the little voice in her head that told her she could be wrong. She hoped she wasn't. "Classic signs."

"I think the sight of you just made him swoon."

Abby stared at Pappy a moment to see if he were serious. "This is no laughing matter, Major Boyington. I suggest you treat it as such."

"OK, OK, just joking."

Right before they arrived, Bobby stirred. Abby raised up on her knees to get closer to him, trying not to get slung out of the jeep. "Bobby? Bobby, wake up. Answer me. Bobby?"

His eyes flicked open, trying to focus on her face over the throbbing in his head. "Am I dead? Is this heaven?" he managed to mutter.

"We're going to the hospital," she answered, feeling his pulse. Yes, it was a little stronger. Good sign.

"You looked so beautiful. I thought it was heaven," he muttered, eyes fluttering closed.

Abby pinched his arm hard, and his eyes opened again. "Bobby, stay with me now."

They were waiting on her at the hospital. A litter. The nurses. Doctor Reese.

She gave them a rundown of his injuries. "I think he has a concussion. Fractured ankle. Maybe a cracked rib. He just passed out at the airstrip, but woke up just a moment ago," she talked fast as they loaded him on the stretcher and hauled him inside.

Abby started to follow them into the examination room, Pappy hot on her heels, but Maria stopped her at the door. "Honey, you look like something the cat drug in. Clean up first, then you can go inside."

Abby started to fight, but looked down at her grease-smeared clothes and stained hands. She did look like shit. Maria disappeared into the examination room, and Abby made sure she found the nearest sink and washed up, pointing Major Boyington to an empty chair.

Scrubbing her nails the best she could and washing her face, she straightened her hair and threw on a white coat over her dirty clothes to hide most of it. Before she was done, she was waylaid by the entire Black Sheep squadron who had landed since they'd arrived at the hospital.

"Where is he?"

"Is he alright?"

"What's wrong?"

Abby was a little overwhelmed, more concerned about getting in there to check on Bobby than answering their questions.

Pappy whistled loudly, and they grew silent.

Running on autopilot, Abby didn't stick around to see what he had to say.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see on the other side of that door, but at least Bobby was sitting up. The doctor had him strip to his waist, and Abby almost winced when she saw the dark purple bruises forming along his rib cage.

His eyes met hers for a moment, but Abby looked away. Ever efficient, she took over for Maria. Maria knew better than to argue. She just stepped out of the way.

After assisting Dr. Reese with tightly wrapping Bobby's ribs – Dr. Reese declared he was pretty sure one of them was broken, probably more cracked, - Abby gathered supplies for stitches for his forehead.

"That's a mighty nasty gash you have there, Lieutenant," Dr. Reese said as he inspected it. Abby handed him a sterile syringe for cleaning it out.

"Those were mighty nasty tree branches I hit on the way down," Bobby replied, instantly regretting it when he sensed Abby tense. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but she was flitting here and there, fetching supplies and being Johnny-on-the-spot for Dr. Reese. Very efficient, his Abby.

Not really 'his Abby,' but he liked to think she was.

Pappy and Gutterman slipped noiselessly into the room to observe, wanting to hear what the doctor had to say.

After wrapping his sprained ankle – Al was right – the doctor retracted the point on his pen with a loud click. "Light concussion. Nothing serious. But, we'd like to keep you overnight for observation."

He brightened at that. Now, Abby couldn't find an excuse to avoid him. It was her job to take care of him!

Well worth the pain, that's for sure.

* * *

Abby was convinced she was doing a great job of being professional. Make sure the sutures were ready, along with the penicillin to avoid infection. Have the proper equipment ready to hand to the doctor as he asked for them. They had worked together long enough that she could easily anticipate it. This wasn't so bad. Bobby was a patient, she was a nurse, that's all that there was or ever could be between them.

But, Bobby's flippant comment about the tree branches almost brought it all down around here.

How could he be so _dismissive_? So _callous_ about it? They thought he was _dead_! She had grieved for him, although she had no right to, and he was sitting here talking about it like it was a Sunday stroll!

He had almost _died_! He could have been _killed_!

This was too much, _way_ too much.

The doctor was finishing up, so she didn't think she'd be missed. Startled because she hadn't known Boyington and Gutterman had been standing at the door the whole time, she gathered up the used towels and equipment and marched outside, heading for the laundry room.

The other Black Sheep looked up at her expectantly, but she kept going, determined to not let them see her break down.

She slammed the door to the little room behind her, tossing the towels and metal utensils on the counter with a clank when the sobs started. Finally allowing herself the freedom to weep, she gripped the edge of the counter as if it were the only thing keeping her sane, the only thing in this world keeping her tethered to her old, predictable self.

When the door creaked open, she immediately wiped her eyes and pretended to sort through the mess she had made, although she could barely see anything through the sheen of tears.

"Captain Reilly? Are you OK?"

"Why does everyone keep _asking_ me that? Why shouldn't I be?" She suppressed another sob, wishing Gutterman would just leave. He was never her biggest fan anyway.

"He's going to be alright, you know?"

"This time." Almost ruthlessly, she threw the towels in the hamper for the next laundry day and sorted the medical supplies for sterilization, metal clanking loudly.

She was relieved to hear the door shut quietly behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

After a long shower, which she thoroughly enjoyed despite the lukewarm water, Abby fell across her bed and slept a dreamless sleep. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until her head hit the pillow.

No sleep for almost 36 hours would do that.

When she awoke, the sun was barely shining into the room from the west.

And Maria was standing over her, her hand on her hip. "Girl, are you going to sleep your life away? Get _up_!"

Abby rolled over and groaned. "I hadn't been asleep that long. See, the sun's just now setting."

Maria snatched the sheets back. "That was yesterday, hon! _Yesterday_ at dusk is when you went to sleep. This is the _next afternoon_!" She perched on the edge of the bare mattress that was Donna's. "We let you sleep. Figured you needed it after staying up all night working on those infernal planes." She cocked her head. "I didn't know you were a mechanic."

Abby rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I think I'd rather work on real live human beings."

"Speaking of real, live human beings, your lieutenant has been asking for you."

Abby flopped back onto her pillow and groaned, covering her face with the sheets. "Why can't the whole lot of them just leave me alone? What have I done to deserve this?"

Maria stood and snatched the blankets back again. "Are you telling me you'd rather him be dead?"

"_No!_ That's not what I meant! I just . . ." Abby stood up and stretched. "I just want things to be like they were before. I didn't worry about them. They didn't know me from Adam's housecat. It was so simple! So comforting! So. . . so . . .

"Boring?" Maria finished. "You can't hide in here forever, Abby." She tapped Abby on the forehead lightly. "I know up there somewhere is a wild child just dying to get out."

Abby swatted her hand away. "It's not that easy, Maria! I grew up with so much structure that now, I have to have it to function. Plus, I made a _promise_ to Tony. He made one to me. I don't plan on breaking it now or ever!"

Maria pursed her lips. "Fine. If that's how you want it. But, I still say you need to go see him. The doctor's letting him go tomorrow morning."

Abby stood up and stretched again. The sleep did her good. "Yeah. Back to kill or be killed. Great life."

Realizing she was getting no where, Maria sashayed over to the door. "Just go see him, Abs. He's pining for you!" She made a big show of putting her hands together and pleading.

"Oh, whatever!" Abby tossed a pillow in Maria's direction, but her friend scooted out the door before it hit her.

"Jeez!" Abby said to no one in particular.

* * *

She took her sweet time at the Mess Hall, eating a quiet supper and finding she was quite ravenous. Stubbornly, she blocked any thoughts of Bobby. What good what it do? The best thing for her was to forget about him altogether. What a better way to start than in her mind?

Of course, it was easy right up until she walked into the hospital ward.

* * *

Bobby was never one for sitting still, and this lying in this hospital bed with nothing to do but play cards with the other patients or read was driving him up the wall. The guys came to see him, but they were taking turns with leave on Esprito.

But no Abby. He hadn't seen her since she walked out of that examination room. Her friend, the plump dark haired girl with the easy smile, said she was sleeping.

_Sleeping_? For 24 _hours_? Seriously, who could sleep that long?

So, he asked Maria. After pursing her lips thoughtfully, she explained to him that since Pappy and T.J. had come to see her the evening his plane went down, she had not slept at all. Just worked on those infernal Corsairs.

Maria reminded him that she had done the same thing when her brother died, except it involved scouring the hospital from top to bottom.

He had seen her grieve for her brother and hated to the bottom of his heart to think she was putting herself through that for him.

But, then again, it gave him hope.

At least she cared.

If she would ever show up over here!

* * *

He was propped up against some pillows reading, commandeering a lamp from some guileless nurse, when Abby sauntered into the dark ward. He was the only one in there, the other wounded being shipped out this afternoon.

Despite all her pep talks, she wanted to burst into tears at the sight of him. Alive.

How crazy was _that_?

She almost bolted from the room

But, no, he would seek her out when she was able. Then, what would happen?

Probably a lot like what happened that night outside the Sheep Pen.

Why was she _acting_ like this? Like a lovelorn teenager? She was a responsible, grown adult! An _engaged_, responsible, grown adult! She needed to act like it!

But, she'd never felt like this before, so confused and muddled, like she was trying to find her way through a fog, not sure what dangers lurked ahead.

She hated that feeling.

* * *

Bobby glanced up from his book, one that French had given him, so it was a little on the randy side, and saw her. His spirits lifted immediately.

"Well, sleepyhead, you look rested." _And beautiful as ever_. He laid the book aside.

She watched him warily from about three beds over, still standing in the aisle.

He watched her, amused. "I had a rabbit one time that got that same look when the dogs got after it."

She sighed. "Do you ever take anything seriously, Bobby?" But, she did slowly make her way towards him.

Bobby sat up straighter. "Sure. When it suits me."

Abby made a face and picked up his chart. Blood pressure. Heart rate. Everything looked normal. He did run a little temperature at first, but seemed to be fine now. "How's your head feeling?"

"A lot better." He patted the mattress next to him. "But, it would feel a _whole_ lot better if you'd snuggle with me."

She made sure the chart was back where it belonged, her mind churning. She didn't want to get that close. Instead, she sat precariously on the edge of the cot next to his.

"That doesn't count," he pouted.

Abby ignored him. "I hear you're going back to camp tomorrow."

"Yeah. I leave for Esprito for a few days. Pappy promised me a 72-hour pass." He brightened. "Go with me. We'll have a great time. Dancing. Drinking. Eating fine meals. Walks on the beach."

"Bobby. I'm engaged. Remember?"

"You're not wearing your ring." He motioned towards her hands, which were clenched in her lap.

_Oh, crap, where was it_? Frantically, she ran through the last few hectic days.

Oh, right. It was on her nightstand. "I took it off before I helped Hutch. I didn't want to lose it." Plus, she was grieving for Bobby so much, she felt guilty for wearing it.

"I thought maybe you were just grieving for me so much that you took it off."

She gave him a double take, shocked that he knew her so well. "Who told you that?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, nobody. At least, not in those words." He gave her a suggestive look. "But, I think you ought to show me how much you missed me?"

Abby jumped to her feet, her emotions she thought she had under control threatening to spill over. "I thought you were _dead_! First my brother, then now _you_! How can you sit there and joke . . . and pretend it wasn't real!"

"Abby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you!"

"Well, you did!"

"It's just how we . . .well, deal with it. You know that."

Those damn tears that always seemed so close to the surface threatened to spill over again.

What was she _doing_?

She needed to get as far away from him as possible and _stay_ away from him. How could he affect her like that, making her nice orderly life into chaos?

She tossed the wrinkled brown envelope on his bed. "T.J. gave me these when they sent your things home. I thought you might want them back."

He recognized the envelope and reached for it as she started towards the door.

"Abby! Wait!"

But, she kept going.

Dammit, he felt like he spent half his time _chasing_ this woman!

Bobby struggled to his feet, ignoring the momentary bout of dizziness. If he didn't catch her, he had a feeling he would never see her again. She was that stubborn.

He reached her before she got to the exit, grabbing her firmly by her arm and turning her around.

"Let me go!" she fought against his grip.

She was crying, and he couldn't take it. Standing there in his boxers and undershirt, it was all he could do to hold onto her. Exasperated, he finally pulled her against him as she struggled.

"She pushed against him, desperate to get away from him and the feelings his close proximity garnered. "I'll scream! I swear I will!"

So, he did the one thing he could think to do to keep her from screaming.

He kissed her.

And, she stopped fighting him. Double bonus.

Abby couldn't fight it anymore. He had that ability to do that to her, to make her lose all her inhibitions and fling all reason to the wind. She forgot about her fears and concerns as they pressed against each other, both desperate for a compassionate touch in such a world turned upside down by war and grief.

Without her realizing it, his hand had found its way up her shirt, and she shivered as his finger tips traced her skin lightly, making him moan against her lips.

Oh, now, _this_ was heaven! This is what she thought it was supposed to be like. All they had to do was fall over onto one of these beds. Or, hell, he could probably just have his way with her up against the wall!

Abby had never felt so alive in her life! For once, she realized the affect she could have on a man, which was obvious by Bobby's physical reaction pressed against her.

Abby struggled back from the brink, practically panting. "Stop. . ."

"No," he argued, starting to nibble on her neck.

"You're hurt," she gasped.

"I don't care." He didn't. He didn't care if he were bleeding profusely at this point, he had to have her. The feminine smell of her was driving him insane, and the little noises she kept making as he touched her were making him want her even more.

Just a few steps, and he'd have her on the cot . . .

There was a loud clatter behind them from the admittance room, and she pushed away from him, breathing unsteadily, her eyes never leaving his.

"Oh, I'm such a klutz!" Maria wailed. "Abby? Is that you? Can you help me in clean this up?"

Bobby broke their gaze, making sure Maria couldn't tell what kind of distressing situation he found himself.

"S-sure," Abby said, not quite sure of her voice.

"Lieutenant Anderson! What are you doing up? You better get back to bed right this instant!" Maria scolded.

So, Maria hadn't spilt her coffee on purpose. She really _didn't_ know Abby was there.

At a loss for words, Bobby immediately complied.

He could hear them in there bumping and cleaning, Maria chattering away brightly. Then, it was quiet.

Abby didn't come back.

Not that he really expected her to.

* * *

The Corsairs woke her up the next morning. Back to the old grindstone.

Abby knew Bobby had been released the day before, but she made sure she stayed busy enough that no one bothered her with that piece of information. And, if she stayed busy enough, Bobby couldn't show up again.

To say the man didn't do something to her insides would have been a complete lie. And, to say that she didn't have the torrid dreams of sweat-soaked sheets and tangled limbs would be an understatement.

But, it was _wrong_! She didn't _want_ that! She didn't need a relationship with a pilot, who, if he didn't get killed, would trade her in for a better model as the need arose.

If what she felt last night were any indication, the sex would have been magnificent. Much better than Tony.

Maria didn't even bother to knock this time, just slammed her way into the room.

"Hon, you got a telegram this morning!"

Abby's heart sank. Who was it now? Kevin or Johnny? Her father? One of her nephews that she might not ever get to see at this rate?

"It's not that kind of telegram, Abby." She waved it in her face, and Abby snatched it, ripping it open.

Her mouth fell open as she read it. "Ohshitohshitohshitohshit . . ." Leaping from the bed, she scrounged around on her cluttered nightstand until she found the ring.

Tony would have _killed_ her if she had lost it! He claims he spent a whole month's salary on it, but Abby figured it wasn't that much.

"Is it Tony? Is he _really_ coming here?"

Abby rushed around straightening her room. Not that Tony would stay here. Where would he stay? VIP tent? Guest house? Maybe he already had it figured out. "He's on Esprito for some conference or other, and he said he'll be here this afternoon."

Just the thought of it made her nauseous, but she immediately quelled those thoughts. He was her fiancé for goodness sakes!

But, there was no rush of love. Only aggravation and annoyance.

Maria clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh, this is _gonna_ be so good!"


	17. Chapter 17

Abby didn't meet Tony at the landing strip. There was no way in hell she was going to risk running into Bobby after the way they dry-humped in the hospital ward. Just thinking about it made her all hot and bothered all over again.

Maybe she could get Tony on and off this island before Bobby even knew he was here. Bobby would most certainly pick a fight with Tony, and Tony would want to know why . . . and she should be ashamed for all of it.

But, she wasn't ashamed. Not really deep down inside where it mattered.

"Abby, darling!"

Abby turned around suddenly, a load of linens for the ward in her arms. "Tony!"

He awkwardly hugged her, and they stood there staring at each other.

"You look great," he said to her self-consciously.

"And . . . you do, too. Really." He did. He looked liked he had lost some weight, and his uniform made him look handsome. With his new haircut, she might have taken a moment to realize it was him if it wasn't for his name stitched over his right breast pocket. "Um . . . let me put these down." She stepped around him and headed for the linen closet, stuffing them inside.

She didn't realize he had followed her until she felt his hands around her waist. She turned around into his waiting embrace.

It just felt . . .wrong. He wasn't Bobby. He didn't smell like him or feel like him or even garner the same physical reaction from her.

He nuzzled her neck, much the same way Bobby did the night before in the hospital ward, but her body didn't react the same. "It seems like we've never done anything in a linen closet before. Want to give it a try?"

Abby snaked out of his arms. "_Tony_! We can't do that here!"

He actually looked disappointed. "I know. It's just been so long since we've . . . you know."

Abby straightened her hair and her clothes, buying time. "Well, Tony, we've only 'you know' that one time." She kept her voice down.

Tony grinned. "Boy, it was amazing, too."

Abby wished she could say the same. Distracting him from anything else of a sexual nature, she took his arm. "Let me show you around."

* * *

Tony was a big hit with the other nurses and in the Mess Hall, laughing and joking with the men and complimenting the women until they giggled or blushed or both.

Abby didn't know what to think. While certainly not a wallflower, he was never this suave, smooth-talking fellow sitting next to her, his hand riding up her thigh until she'd slap it away. Something had changed.

Apparently, losing a few pounds and getting a tan agreed with Tony.

He took her hand as they sauntered back to the hospital, the balmy night air thick around them.

"You know, it's not so bad here. I oughtta get a transfer, don't you think?"

Abby's eyes widened. "Oh, you'd hate it. The mosquitoes are huge, and those crazy little planes fly over constantly. Not to mention the malaria and the Japanese kates bombing us . . ." She'd said too much.

But, Tony dismissed it. "I'd like to meet some of those Black Sheep. They're legendary, even back in the States."

The old Tony would have immediately been frightened that Japanese bombed the island, worried for her safety. This new Tony didn't even seem to give a fig.

Hmmm. Something was up.

"They're just regular ol' pilots." Abby chose her words carefully. "Just like any others."

Tony looked disappointed. "It would be nice to shake their hands. Tell them what a good job they're doing for morale."

"I think they do a good job just to stay alive," Abby couldn't help but comment. Bravery was always overrated in her book. It usually rooted from some deep-seated instinct to survive.

Tony shrugged, and they continued towards the hospital. "I hate I have to go back tonight."

"Tonight? But why? You just got here." She tried not to sound relieved and covered it up with questions.

"The General has me in some big negotiations. Important stuff. You wouldn't understand." He practically patted her on the head, and she ground her teeth in frustration.

They made their way to the motor pool, and he requested a jeep. "Aren't you going with me?"

Abby wanted to roll her eyes. But, at least in the dark, she'd be less likely to run into any of those pilots.

"Please? We spend so little time together?"

Abby let out a breath. He was right. They're going to be married, so she might as well like it.

The ride to the airstrip was short, but the carrier plane was late.

Abby settled in for a wait in the jeep when Tony had a bright idea. "Let's go to the place with the funny name . . . The Sheep Pen. Have a drink before I go."

If it wasn't so dark, he'd have seen her pale considerably. She balked the best she could. "Let's just stay out here and visit. Talk some. Tell me about your new job." She hated she was feigning interest to keep his mind occupied, but they absolutely could not risk the chance of running into Bobby.

"Well, you're going to see me this weekend."

She blinked. "I am?"

"Yeah, I arranged for you to come out. We'll have a little more _privacy_."

Abby did wince at the obvious meaning of his words. "Uhh, that's sweet of you, Tony, but I've been busy."

"It's all been arranged," he waved his hand, dismissing her and aggravating her at the same time. "Now, let's go have that drink."

Abby trudged along, shuffling her feet, hoping to hear that damn plane arrive, so they could turn around and head back to the airstrip.

No such luck.

Nighttime festivities were in full swing, and she hesitated outside the door. But, Tony didn't notice, just barged on inside, dragging her behind him.

All laughter and talking quieted as they entered as all eyes stared at them. Tony put his arm over her shoulders, and she had to resist the urge to wiggle away.

Bobby had bartender duty.

Abby didn't dare look at him.

* * *

Bobby knew who the creep was when he saw him. That man's picture mocked him from her nightstand the few times he'd been in her room.

What the hell was he doing _here_?

For one instant, Bobby thought maybe he knew. Maybe he had heard about what little he and Abby had done and come for retaliation.

He cracked his knuckles in anticipation. Fine with him. He hadn't been in a good fight for a long time. And he'd enjoy getting a few licks in on this preppy looking guy.

But, no, this Tony fellow looked congenial enough.

Although Abby looked sick to her stomach.

Just how long had he been here? Where was he staying?

More importantly, had he and Abby . . .?

The thought of the two of them together made Bobby see red for just a moment. But, what did it matter? Tony had a right to be with her. Not him.

And that didn't make him feel any better.

* * *

"Well, well, well! We don't often get visitors, Captain," Pappy met Tony at the door, trying to alleviate the tension.

Tony smiled, realizing whose hand he was shaking, not noticing the dirty looks he was getting from the bartender across the room. "I'm Captain Tony Ginsburg, US Navy Corp of Engineers."

Pappy paused a moment before responding. This was not going to turn out good, judging from the pained expression on Abby's face. "Major Boyington, VMF-214 Black Sheep Squadron. Nice to meet you." But, Anderson could take care of himself. He motioned towards the bar. "Belly up, Captain. Pick your poison."

Tony practically drug Abby to the bar where two stools immediately opened up. How convenient.

"I'll have a scotch, and what'll you have, dear?" Tony didn't even look at Bobby. He never was one to acknowledge the help.

"Nothing. I'm fine," she whispered.

Bobby slammed the glass on the bar and filled it full, practically shoving it across to Tony without speaking, some of it sloshing over the sides.

If the floor had opened up and swallowed her whole, she'd have been just fine with that.

Tony pulled Abby closer to him, almost pulling her from the stool and took a sip. "Damn, Lieutenant, how do you get such good tasting scotch here? Better than what I have at home, isn't that right, dear?"

_What's the 'dear' business?_ But, Abby didn't want to argue. "R-right."

Bobby slung his towel over the bar, barely missing Tony. "I'm through for the night, guys."

Tony watched him go. "What's eatin' him?"

Abby wanted to put her head in her arms. She knew good and well what was eating him. She'd strung him along for so long, then shoved her fiancé in his face, that's what was wrong! But, she'd tried to resist! Really, she did! It was just too damned hard!

Tony made small talk with Casey and French on his other side while she fumed, not paying them any attention.

Finally, the roar of a plane grew louder.

"There's my ride, folks, it's been a pleasure." Tony drained the last of his liquor and helping Abby from the stool, still not noticing how upset she was.

But, he never was one to pay any attention to her feelings, anyway.

Abby was nervous as a cat as they walked the short distance to the airstrip. The plane was waiting, door open.

Tony kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you this weekend, dear."

Abby watched the plane take off, lights winking on the wings, wondering just why she made her life so damn complicated.

* * *

Abby never tried to find Bobby. It was just as well. She could make a clean break, forget about him and get on with her life. She decided she would go to Esprito this weekend. Surprise Tony. Make love to him. Enjoy it. Be the best wife-to-be she could. After all, it wasn't Tony's fault she was having unfaithful thoughts. All this time, she was worried about Tony making a fool out of her by cheating, and she was millimeters from doing it herself!

But, this time, she'd make him set a date for their wedding. There was no need in stringing this out longer than necessary.

She actually found herself looking forward to the visit, especially for the time away from the hospital and Vella La Cava.

Hutch waylaid her before she could get on the courier plane Friday afternoon. "Hey, whenever you get the urge to take an engine apart, come see me! I could use the help!"

Abby had to smile. "Thanks, Hutch. I might just take you up on that."

Hutch wiped his greasy hands absently. "Yeah, since Bobby, French, Jerry and T.J. have been on Esprito, it's given me time to catch up on some things with their planes."

Oh, so Hutch snuck that one in there, didn't he? "I don't know what they'll do if you go for some R&R."  
Hutch grinned. "Place would fall down around their ears."

Abby had to return his grin. "You're probably right."

She settled in for the short flight. So, Bobby got his R&R after all. He'd recuperated nicely from his little stint into the wild blue yonder. Not that she'd snuck a look at his chart or anything.

Alright, she did sneak a peek. After all, she'd played tonsil hockey with him in the hospital ward, so she had earned the right to look.

But, those days were over. Abby was ready to be Mrs. Tony Ginsberg, settle down in a nice little house with a picket fence and a dog. Have babies. Kiss his cheek when he came home for the evening and listen while he talked about his day . . .

Why did it just make her feel more damned depressed?

* * *

Bobby thought if he fled into the arms of another woman, he'd forget about Abby. How she paraded around with that desk jockey Tony. How she'd cried for him when she thought he was dead. The way her breasts felt against his finger tips . . . _shit_!

His first night on Espirito, he tried. He really did. And the dame that latched onto him was a looker, alright. Big boobs, big hair, lots of make-up and nothing beneath such a charming exterior at all whatsoever.

His usual, in other words.

And, he hated it. Abby had ruined it for him. It was all her fault.

But, maybe it was _his_ fault. After all, he had practically coerced her into anything they did. Not that she didn't enjoy it when it got started, but she had _tried_ to keep her distance.

Maybe she was right after all. They should have never have gotten to know each other if they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

So, the second night, he drank. And drank and drank. Until he woke up outside the bar at dawn with no clue who threw him out or how he got there.

French, T.J. and Jerry found him and sobered him up. Now, it was the last night of their leave. Wanting to have one last hurrah, the guys were determined to go to this fancy-schmancy officer's club for dinner. Laughing and joking amongst themselves the entire ride over, they pretty much left Bobby alone.

Which was fine by him. He wanted to mope. He'd done this to her and to himself, and now he was getting what he deserved.


	18. Chapter 18

By the way, since Espirito had all the officer big-wigs on it - I'm just assuming it had something there similar to a restaurant. So, I used my creative license (right behind my driver's license and my gun permit in my purse!) and made one up. - tonygirl

* * *

Abby stepped of the plane determined to have a good time. She took a jeep to where Tony was staying, but the soldier behind the counter – who couldn't have been more than 18 – said that Captain Ginsburg was having dinner over at Pier 82. Abby had heard of the place, but never been there. Usually, only the big-wigs dined their on the finest food found in the South Pacific.

_My, Tony's tastes had changed, hadn't they?_ He would never have taken her out to such an expensive restaurant at home, always preferring to save his pennies. War had given him a change of heart, apparently.

She didn't realize the funny look the guard gave her when she mentioned she was Tony's fiancé.

She went back out to her jeep and headed for Pier 82. Might as well get a gourmet meal in her stomach. Maybe some liquor. Hell, maybe she should just get shit-faced drunk!

The sun was setting over the ocean when she pulled into the packed parking lot, full of jeeps of all shapes and sizes. The restaurant was full, some of the patrons sitting out on the deck enjoying the view.

Abby straightened her uniform coat and headed for the entrance.

* * *

"Aw, c'mon, Bobby, have a drink." Jerry shoved the pitcher over to Anderson.

Anderson shoved it back. "No." He went back to pouting.

French rolled his eyes. "You are the most pitiful lovelorn sonovabitch I've ever seen."

"Go to hell." Anderson couldn't help it. Everything irritated him.

His companions let him mope, carousing amongst themselves, gaining dirty looks from a few patrons.

Before their food arrived, T.J. left the table, although Bobby wasn't paying any of them too much attention to notice.

* * *

T.J. spotted Tony as he was heading out of the restroom. Captain Ginsburg had his arm around some red-headed nurse who was dressed to kill in some slinky number and stilettos. The woman giggled behind her hand as Tony whispered something in her ear, brushing the hair from her neck familiarly. They just _thought_ they were hiding behind that plant at a private table.

_Oh, shit._

Frantically, T.J. motioned towards his table. French saw him and after much gesturing, he rolled his eyes and stood up, meeting T.J. near the bathrooms behind a potted plant.

Anderson had his back to him and wasn't paying French a bit of attention, just staring into his beer. The lovesick bastard.

"Have you gone girlie on me, T.J.? Need someone to help you in the bathroom?" French asked.

"Shhhh! Look over there." T.J. grabbed him by the arm and pointed across the crowded room.

"Oh, shit," French echoed his thoughts exactly. "What are we goin' do?"

"Hey, guys, what's up?" Jerry sauntered over, not wanting to be left out.

French motioned towards Tony and the dame, who was still giggling, and he was still petting. "Apparently, Captain Reilly's fiancé has had a change of heart."

Jerry's eyes widened. "Bobby's gonna be pissed."

T.J. and French shook their heads simultaneously. "We're not telling Bobby."

"But . . .why?"

"We're not telling Bobby, and we're not telling Abby," French added.

T.J. looked at French like he were crazy. "Hell, yeah, we're telling Abby!"

French gave him a shove. "That's only because you want to get in her pants!"

"No, it's not!" T.J. shoved back.

Jerry knew when to intervene. "OK, let's just go back to the table. Eat really fast, and get Bobby out of here before he sees. Right?"

French and T.J. gave each other dirty looks, but complied.

"Where in the world have you guys been?" Anderson asked. "The food got here 10 minutes ago."

"Uh . . . nothing. Uh . . . French met a table full of girls, and we went to introduce ourselves." Jerry patted himself on the back for his fast thinking.

"Uh . . . right. Girls. Table. Check." French added, digging in, wishing he could lie a little more effectively.

"So, I guess you have some entertainment lined up for tonight, huh?" Anderson asked.

T.J. dropped his fork in his plate with a loud clank, gawking over Anderson's shoulder.

Bobby wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Well, jeez, T.J. It's not like you haven't ever been entertained by a woman before, is it?"

French saw her next. Abby was standing in the doorway, searching the crowd, a flustered host fluttering about her. He tossed his napkin in his plate. "Oh, shit."

"Seems to be the phrase of the night," Jerry muttered.

Confused, Bobby turned to see what all the fuss was about.

* * *

For some reason, the little restaurant host was being anything but helpful, flitting around, saying incoherent things about how Captain Ginsburg didn't want to be bothered.

"But, I'm going to be his wife. I'll bother him all I want," Abby muttered as she searched the room. All that did was make the poor fellow look a little faint.

She saw the flaming red hair first, some guy practically undressing this woman in public as they made out in the corner.

Abby made a face and almost kept looking. Really, you'd think some people would get a room . . . son . . . of . . . a . . . _bitch_!

The _creep_! The sorry _bastard_! The lowdown, rotten dirty _snake_!

She conveniently ignored the voice in her head that kept saying she was doing the same thing with Bobby.

But, at least it wasn't in _public_! In front of people who knew her professionally and would talk about how she was getting the wool pulled over her eyes by that creep she was supposed to marry!

Hell, would any of them ever have told her?

Bobby saw Abby and for a brief, exhilarating moment, thought she was looking for him.

But, she wasn't even looking in his direction!

And, she looked like she was going to be sick.

He followed her gaze. When he saw them, he understood the look on her face. His chair scraped on the floor loudly as he stood, tossing his napkin on the table.

"Bobby . . ." T.J. warned.

"Shut up," Anderson growled.

He made his way through the restaurant, curious eyes following him.

When he reached Tony's table, he stood there for a moment, staring, as this man who so sweetly called Abby "dear" and his "future wife" had his tongue stuck down some red-head's throat in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

* * *

Abby didn't know where Bobby had come from, but this was not going to be pretty. She had to stop him before he got himself into trouble or worse.

She started inching towards them, but by now, the restaurant had quieted and more than a few had stopped eating and stood to get a better look.

It was slow and frustrating and didn't make her queasy stomach feel any better.

* * *

Bobby cleared his throat loudly. "Captain? Oh, Captain?"

Tony opened one eye, his lips still locked with the red-head. He backed up enough to say, "I'm a little busy, Lieutenant. You can see me in the morning . . ."

His anger far outreaching his common sense, Bobby reached over the table and pulled Tony up and over it by his collar, Tony blustering like an idiot.

"I'll have you striped for this! What is the meaning . . ." His voice trailed off as he looked over Anderson's shoulder.

Abby was determinedly making her way through the crowd, face taunt.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Tony called out to her, momentarily forgetting he was dangling from some pilot's fist.

Anderson didn't wait for him to say anything else. Deftly, he let him go, and Tony landed in a heap in the middle of the table, plates crashing to the floor.

The red-head stood up and backed away slowly, not wanting to get food on her dress.

Tony stumbled to his feet and started towards Abby, who was now standing at the edge of the crowd of people, watching with angry eyes.

* * *

Abby didn't know what to do. She'd seen Bobby mad before, and with the way he was clenching his jaw, she _knew_ he was angry.

If Tony couldn't tell not to provoke him, he was a fool.

Her feet were rooted to the floor. For once in her life, she was at a loss of what to do: Punch Tony herself? Drag Bobby away? Run out the door screaming and hide in her room the rest of the weekend?

What?

Tony started towards her, still blubbering.

* * *

Bobby's first punch sent Tony sprawling back across the table, nose spurting blood. The crowd gasped. His second one was a sucker punch to the gut, leaving Tony heaving to catch his breath.

Bobby would have gone for more, but Jerry and French got to him first. "C'mon, Bobby, he's not worth it." French placated him as he held his arm.

The red-head was immediately on her knees next to Tony, crooning at him.

Tony swatted her away annoyingly. "I'll have you kicked out of the Corps for this, Lieutenant!"

"Good! Then, I can kick your sorry ass some more!" Bobby called out as he was being drug away, still livid.

Abby quietly made her way to Tony. She stared at him for a moment, face bloody, as the red-head dabbed at his nose with a napkin.

He tried to get up. "Abby, honey, are you OK? That maniac attacked me! He thought I was . . ."

Without hesitating, she took the ring off her finger and tossed it at him. It hit the floor with a quiet ding and rolled underneath the table. The red-head went for it.

"I saw it, too, Tony. Don't make excuses."

Tony saw his hopes slip away. With a three-star general as a father-in-law, he couldn't fail! Now, his chances were drifting away. "But, honey . . ."

Abby had turned to follow the Black Sheep from the restaurant, but she whirled around. "Don't blubber. It makes you look like a bigger idiot than you already are."

The crowd parted as she walked out the door.

* * *

They were standing around their jeep, almost as if they were waiting on her to walk out the door.

"Are you OK?" T.J. rushed to her, obviously concerned.

She brushed him off. "Fine, fine." Her weekend had just an unexpected turn, and she wasn't sure how to take it. No big deal.

Bobby sat in the jeep, arms crossed defiantly, jaw still clenched in anger.

Abby marched right up to him, and he opened his mouth to say something.

Feeling brave, she gave him a big, juicy smack on the lips. "If you hadn't of done it, I would have."

French and Jerry snickered behind her.

Bobby just stared at her, a goofy grin on his face.

The wail of sirens started in the distance.

"Uh, Bobby? Isn't attacking a superior officer an offense punishable by death? Or something like that?" Jerry asked hesitantly.

French climbed into the driver's seat, and everyone else climbed aboard, Abby, Jerry and T.J. in the back. He started the jeep and headed out of the parking lot at one end as the MPs pulled into it from the other.

"Where to?" French yelled over the motor. "I don't know if we can keep him hidden for long."

Abby thought hard. "Go to the airstrip!"

"We can't fly out in the dark!"

"We can if we use our instruments," Jerry said sensibly.

"If you want to get him off this island before the MPs do, you have no choice!" Abby answered.

They didn't argue. They knew she was right.

* * *

Their Corsairs were already gassed up and ready for their departure early the next morning, waiting in a row at the airstrip.

The mechanic on duty didn't like his schedule to be thrown off course. "But, it says here that these planes aren't leaving until 0700."

"Plans change, Corporal," French said, climbing into the cockpit. "Thanks for the gas!"

"But . . ."  
The drone of French's engine drowned out any other protests. Shrugging as French headed for the runway, he tossed his hands up in surrender.

T.J. and Jerry followed right behind him, their running lights winking in the night.

Abby and Bobby watched them go before he started protesting. "I'm not going to leave you here to deal with him . . ."

She put both hands on his arms. "Go. I'll take care of it. As soon as I set the story straight, the MPs will be after him and not you."

Bobby didn't like how rushed this was. "But . . ." The wail of sirens turning into the airfield grew louder.

"Go!" Abby backed up.

She thought he might kiss her. But, instead, he turned and clambered into the cockpit.

Abby watched him roar down the runway and follow the other Black Sheep, as she held onto her hat to keep it from blowing off her head.

The MPs screeched to a stop next to her. "Hey, you let them get away!"

"I didn't let anybody get away." She climbed into her jeep. "Now, take me to your officer of the day. On the double!"

Since she outranked them, and the suspects were long gone anyway, the complied.

Plus, she looked madder than hell.

* * *

Abby's head hurt. It was dawn, and after talking all night with some screaming and hollering thrown in for good measure, she got the charges dropped against Bobby.

Colonel Lard was none too happy about it, especially since Tony had gone groveling to him immediately, but conveniently without telling the whole story.

But, when Abby informed Colonel Lard of the way Tony was carrying on with the red-head, who was on the other side of the island by now for as much as she knew, there wasn't anything Colonel Lard could say. She argued that Lieutenant Anderson was defending her honor, and wasn't that what the armed forces was about anyway? Defending the honor of their country? Why not the women, too?

With some forced tears thrown in, there wasn't anything the MPs could do. So, they dropped the charges.

Then, she had to deal with Tony's whining and pleading. When he quickly realized that wasn't going to work, he turned hateful. Phrases like, 'you weren't that good anyway' and 'if it wasn't for your father, no man would want to date you' stung for sure, but she let it go. Eventually, he ran out of steam and slunk away, leaving her alone.

Finally.

Before crawling into her bunk, determined to sleep the rest of her R&R away, Abby seriously wondered what she ever saw in him anyway.


	19. Chapter 19

For those who were wondering, the title comes from Isaiah 45:7 KJV "I form the light, and creat darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things." Oh, and I don't own the rights to the Bible, either :-)

* * *

Abby returned to Vella La Cava before her R&R was up. She was only there because of Tony, and now that Tony had a broke nose, busted lip and her ring back, there was no reason to stay.

The Corsairs were missing when her plane touched down. In a way, she was glad. The sooner she didn't have to face Bobby, the better. But, in a way, it galled her, too, especially because it reminded her that Bobby was an infernal pilot.

Hutch waylaid her before she left the airfield. "Hiya, Captain! Back so soon?" he asked a little too brightly as he wiped his hands with her ever-present dirty rag.

Abby held onto her hat as the courier plane took off, throwing up dust around them. "Don't act like you don't know, Hutch."

He grinned sheepishly. "Never liked the creep anyway. Thought he was too good to shake my hand."

Abby managed a smile. "Tony could be a snob."

Hutch switched gears. "Listen, I could use your help. See, we have this engine over here that needs some fine work that my fingers can't get into . . ."

Before Abby realized it, she was elbow-deep in another Corsair, her dress shirt rolled up to the middle of her arms, one of Hutch's jackets over it to keep the grease off her clothes.

She was just putting the finishing touches on it when she heard the Corsairs.

"Hutch! You tricked me this time, you son of a bitch, but I won't let you get me again!" She yelled in his general direction.

Hutch gave her a mischievous smile and half-assed salute.

As the planes landed with as much fan fare as possible, Abby muttered under her breath as she put the engine together.

Right on cue, she heard a voice behind her.

"You must like to get in my engines. It seems every time I see you lately, you're covered with grease and grim."

Abby looked down at Greg, resisting the urge to stick at her tongue out at his merry expression. "Well, Major Boyington, it seems your mechanic enjoys tricking me into doing things to keep me around for other purposes." She spotted Bobby nearby, almost as if he was waiting for her to finish her conversation."

"Guess you had good luck with the charges?"

"What charges?"

Boyington grinned at her. "That's my girl."

"I'm not your girl. Or anyone else's."

He grinned broader, and she wanted to throw a wrench at him. "Well, Captain, I see I'm not the only one waiting to have a word with you."

So, he'd noticed Bobby waiting impatiently, too. Great.

With a final salute, he sauntered towards the showers, whistling.

Bobby didn't waste any time. As she was climbing from the wing, he was right there to help her, his strong hands about her waist guiding her to the ground.

Abby probably clung to him longer than necessary when her feet hit the tarmac, but it was nice to lean on someone. Even for a moment.

She took a step backwards and took off Hutch's jacket, folding it neatly despite its ragged appearance. It kept her hands occupied, so she wouldn't pull him to her and do the tonsil-tango in broad daylight.

He cleared his throat, watching her, shifting his gear from one hand to the other nervously. "So, how'd it go? On Esprito?"

"I threw the world's biggest temper tantrum, and even Colonel Lard had to back down."

Bobby smiled. "You? A temper tantrum? Never!"

"It's not funny! Tony was pretty serious about pressing charges, but once I found out that red-head wasn't the only thing he'd been having on the side, I made sure to make all those involved feel that my honor was more important than Tony's broken nose!" She wiped her hands on a rag Hutch had left her.

Bobby's smile faded, and he kicked at a clod of dirt. "So, are you OK? You know, with what happened?"

Abby grimaced. "I'm just glad I found out what he was before we got married. Do you know he only wanted to marry me to further his career because of my _father_?" She shook her head at her own stupidity. "I can be such an idiot. I thought he loved me, and since there had been no other takers, I blindly agreed to marry him . . ." It was pathetic, really, the more she thought about it.

Bobby lightly put his hand on her arm to keep her from going. "Stick around. Your R&R isn't up until this afternoon."

She looked into his dark eyes. She wanted to stick around. Oh, boy, did she! But, she had other demons to deal with. She removed Bobby's hand from her person. "That's not a good idea."

"_What_? You don't have that creep's ring on anymore? Why is it not a good idea?"

"Don't question me!" She lowered her voice when Hutch looked up from a nearby engine. "Do you know the first thing I thought when I saw Tony with that red-head. I had been doing the same thing with _you_. So, I had no right to get angry. Maybe I deserved what happened."  
"That's crazy talk! You didn't deserve any of that. Plus, both times _I_ kissed _you_!"

"I didn't stop you, either!" _And I enjoyed the hell out of it_.

Bobby looked like he wanted to argue some more, but Abby didn't let him. "Look, I'm not rushing into anything again."

"But . . . this is different!" he sputtered.

Abby motioned for silence. "Whoever I take up with, if I even take up with anyone ever again, I will do so at my own time table. Not my mother's or my friend's, but mine! I don't care if I wind up being a dowdy old-maid, at least it will be of my own choosing!"

"But . . ."

She kept right up with her diatribe, not wanting to give him time to change her mind. "You're a sweet guy, and if we had met under totally different circumstances, there might be more. But, I'm not going to see you, then be sitting here one day to receive the news that you're going home in a body bag. I'm going to enjoy it just being me for awhile and see how I like it."

Stepping around him, she headed towards her luggage, halfway hoping Bobby would stop her.

But, that was silly. She had made this decision on the flight from Esprito. She'd made her bed, now she'd lie in it. It was the right thing to do. Her mind was such a muddled mess right now, all she needed was time to back up and think.

Picking up her bags, she threw Hutch a wave and made her way to her jeep.

Bobby watched her go, throwing his flight gear violently on the ground in frustration when she zoomed out of sight.

* * *

One whole week slogged by. There were wounded to tend and papers to file and reports to fill out. At first, Abby was content with her decision about no more Bobby. After packing up what little she had to remind her of Tony and shipping it to him with as little packing material as possible, it was refreshing to be her own woman again. To make decisions on what she wanted to do and not have to think of somebody else.

But, it was lonely, too.

It took a couple of days for her to admit she missed Bobby.

And that pissed her off.

Except for the companionship of her family, specifically her brothers, she never needed the camaraderie of a gaggle of friends, thanks to her family's nomadic ways. She was more content with a quiet place to read than a loud, raucous party surrounded by people.

It's not like she wanted to be around a bunch of people now.

Just one. Bobby.

Damn him! Just how in the world did he do this to her?

After a couple of days, she shrugged her anger off. She was back in control, and it was better for all parties involved for her to stay away. He was reckless, dangerous and an all-out royal slob. Plus, her father would kill her if she dated a Marine Corps pilot. He'd probably sail his battleship right into the harbor and read her the riot act.

That thought made her smile.

However, when the workday was done, and it was time for bed, loneliness reared its ugly head. And something even worse to make her toss and turn – desire.

She was never a prude, sure, and had the normal thoughts and feelings as any other female. However, she always could curb those impulses when necessary and manage to follow her head, not her libido.

But, now, if her libido had its way, they'd be out there on that beach on a blanket with him doing God knows what.

Stupid libido.

But, she'd control that, too. In time.

She hoped.

* * *

All the nurses stared apprehensively at the straws in Major Arant's hand. One-by-one, they all reached out and took one, hiding even from themselves the straw they chose.

When the Major's hand was empty, they all held out their hands, straws exposed and looked around.

No one liked quarterly physical time, even when it involved such healthy specimens as the Black Sheep.

_Especially_ when it involved the Black Sheep.

It didn't matter if Major Reese was doing the actual work, the comments and suggestions the Marines threw in their direction were enough to make a prostitute blush.

Stupid Marines.

Abby covered her face with her hand not holding her straw.

Hers was the shortest.

There went her Black Sheep hiatus.

Abby could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on the Major's face. "Dr. Reese is leaving at 0900 tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Abby muttered.

Why was she acting like this? She was a professional and a superior officer to most of them, and if they didn't treat her like one, then she'd see they received the proper punishment. She would not put up with any shenanigans and would make sure they all knew that up front. She'd do her job at the most professional level by assisting Dr. Reese and leave from there, just like if those infernal pilots were any other Joe Blow off the streets.

Riiight . . . that's what she said the first time, too, wasn't it?


	20. Chapter 20

The next few chapters mirror the episode "Up for Grabs." In case anyone realizes that :-)

* * *

Anderson knew something was wrong when Meatball shot into the woods, growling and barking. A sharp yip, then nothing.

No one else was up but Hutch, and since Anderson had KP duty, which he hated, he found any excuse he could to take a breather.

"Meatball! Where did you go, you mangy mutt?"

Nothing.

Only mildly concerned, Anderson followed the path the dog took into the woods. "Meatball! Where are you, boy?"

There was a rustling behind him, and he turned. "Come here you stupid . . ."

He was staring down several rifle barrels, the Japanese on the other end looking just as mean as the guns they were holding.

For one brief moment, he thought he could take them. But, as shouts rang out back towards camp, all he could do was put his arms over his head and allow himself to be lead back to camp.

* * *

To say they were scared was putting it lightly. Scared, angry, resigned, jumpy. As they all sat in the Sheep Pen - their temporary holding place - not allowed to speak or even look at each other, they all wondered if they would get out of this alive.

Poor French was practically still knocked out. He had reached for his pistol when the Japanese rushed his tent, waking him, and received a rather nasty rifle butt to the head for his efforts.

Except for French, everyone else was still relatively healthy. So far.

And to put an interesting twist on it, T.J. and Casey were missing.

There was a flurry of activity at the door, and they all looked up, expecting the worst.

A surprisingly kind looking man entered, surrounded by even more guards. "Gentlemen, I am Major Hirohito. I apologize for such a rude awakening this morning, but you are essential in our plan to demoralize the Allied Forces. Ah, Major Boyington, so pleased to meet you!" He actually sounded pleased.

Boyington didn't return his enthusiasm. "What's the deal, Hirohito?"

"The 'deal', as you so eloquently put it is this: at 1100 today, a carrier plane will land on the airstrip, the guest of honor, who has been frequenting other islands for a visit, one that we would enjoy meeting." He smiled maliciously.

Boyington's gears were turning. "You mean General _McArthur_?"

"He's visited all the other troops on his way to bolster morale. Plus, this knowledge comes from inside sources." His meaning hung in the air. Someone was feeding the enemy information.

A rather mean looking fellow, high ranking, judging from the way the guards acting, barreled his way into the room spoke in rapid Japanese to the major.

"Major Boyington, there are two empty bunks. Whose are they?" Hirohito asked, all trace of politeness gone.

The mean-looking fellow grabbed Gutterman and held a gun to his head before Boyington could formulate an answer.

Boyington stood up abruptly, making the guards even more nervous. "There's no need for the theatrics, Major. Those bunks belong to Lieutenant T.J. Wiley and Lieutenant Larry Casey. They were shot down last week."

The Japanese major studied Boyington for a moment before firing a command in his language. The soldier holding Gutterman hostage reluctantly let him go.

"You better not be lying, Boyington," the major warned.

Boyington met his stare without flinching.

Major Hirohito seemed satisfied. "Concerning our previous conversation, I take it we will have your full cooperation?"

Like they had any choice.

"We will cooperate on one condition."

Hirohito raised his eyebrow. "I don't think you're in any condition to barter, Major Boyington."

Pappy ignored him. He pointed at French. "I want him to get medical attention."

Hirohito seemed to think about it. "I'll get back with you on that." With another barked order, he and his entourage left the room, leaving the guards behind.

"What now, James?" Anderson hissed at Gutterman.

Gutterman's knees were still weak from having that gun pointed at his head. "I don't know, Anderson, I just don't know."

* * *

The day was gorgeous, not too hot and not too windy. Abby wiped an imaginary speck of dirt off her uniform slacks. She refused to wear the mandatory nurse's garb today. Chance for too many suggestive comments. The more she looked like a soldier, maybe the more they'd treat her like one.

Yeah, right.

The doctor was quiet this morning, but he had a rather late night with one of the new nurses, from what Abby could gather. He was young and rather good-looking, but he had never approached her. It would be awkward enough to work for a man who she'd dallied with, especially if it didn't work out. Although that never stopped the other nurses.

Hell, it was hard enough to share an _island_ with one she _wanted_ to dally with!

"Did you hear them play 'Reveille' this morning? Never thought I'd see the day when a Black Sheep would follow protocol." Dr. Reese commented.

"'Reveille'? Are you _sure_?" That did sound strange.

"Heard it myself in the shower this morning." He shrugged.

The flags flapped cheerfully in the breeze as they neared the camp.

The first thing Abby noticed was beneath the American flag, the squadron flag was obviously upside down.

"Would you look at that. Guess someone else had a late night, too" Dr. Reese mused.

Abby agreed, but her gut was telling her something else. When they pulled into camp, the place looked deserted. No one out playing football. No one strolling along after breakfast.

There was something wrong here . . .

The Japanese soldiers stepped out from around the tents, all rifles trained on them.

Abby gasped, and almost was slung onto the hood of the jeep as Dr. Reese slammed on brakes, stalling the engine. "What in the . . ." He reached for his pistol on the seat next to him.

The first rifle shot hit him in the shoulder, and he yelped, dropping the pistol onto the seat. The second and third pinged harmlessly off the jeep.

* * *

The Black Sheep jumped to his feet at the sound of gunshots nearby.

"Oh, shit, they found them," Gutterman muttered under his breath. T.J. and Casey were their only hope.

There was a lot of yelling from the several guards in the room and a lot of posturing with the guns. So, no one rushed to the window to see what was going on, although one of the guards ignored his post long enough to watch the scene outside unfold.

The Black Sheep were still in the dark. And didn't like it one bit.

Abby leapt to her feet, bracing herself on the windshield, her heart in her throat. "Stop it! Medical corps! See?" She pointed at the hood of the jeep, hoping like hell they recognized the red cross for what it was.

Dr. Reese groaned and grabbed his injured arm. Trying to stop the Japanese from firing – and just how in the world did they get on this island undetected anyway? – Abby had forgotten momentarily that he was wounded. With shaking hands, she leaned over to inspect his wound. It was automatic for her to help anyone who was injured, and while her brain rattled off questions with no answers, she had to do something constructive.

Another shot rang out, shattering the windshield, and Abby jumped back, stumbling out of the jeep and onto the ground on her backside.

Now, _that_ pissed her off.

A mean little man with a sneer on his face picked her roughly off the ground and starting yelling in Japanese as he held her arms tightly behind her, another guard training his weapon on her.

He must have been yelling orders because a few others dragged Dr. Reese out of the jeep onto the ground, ignoring his cries of pain.

When one of them kicked him in the ribs, Abby leapt into action. She kicked out and managed to hit the soldier with the rifle trained on her in the face. He dropped it and fell backwards. Almost immediately, she stomped on the guy's boot behind her before he could react, and he yelped in pain, loosening his grip on her arm.

But, he recovered quickly and yanked her by her hair, her head at an impossible angle to where she couldn't struggle. The soldier she had kicked struggled to his feet, his hand on his jaw.

It only took a few moments, but it felt like an eternity.

"What's going on here?" a voice said in well-articulated English.

He came from the airfield, a small contingent of soldiers following from behind.

Taking in the situation quickly, he barked an order, and the man who had her neck at such at impossible angle it brought tears to her eyes, shoved her to the ground. She caught herself on the jeep and turned around, ready to fight.

"Steady, my dear. Even your well-executed martial arts couldn't fight a hail of bullets."

Abby immediately hated this man with the laughing eyes. "What do you want? Where are the Black Sheep?"

"I believe you're not in any position to ask questions, my dear, but I will answer them. I am Major Hirohito of the Japanese Army. The man who was brutalizing you," he gave the guy a dirty look, but he just returned it with empty eyes, "is my second-in-command, Captain Min. We are commandeering your island to gain access to General McArthur, who will be visiting this afternoon."

"_McArthur_? Are you _nuts_?" Abby wished she could reach for the pistol still lying in the jeep and take some of these guys out. But, then, even a pistol was no match for all these rifles. So, she held still.

Hirohito laughed out loud. "Some may say we are, but it's worked so far."

She couldn't argue with him there.

"As for your Black Sheep, they're all inside," he motioned towards the Sheep Pen. Abby could see no movement from the windows. She hoped they were heavily guarded and not dead. Glancing around, she couldn't see much sign of a struggle, so maybe no one was hurt seriously.

"My dear, now I need to ask you a question. What are you doing here on such a fine morning? Boyington did not send you word we were here somehow, did he?"

"If he did, don't you think the military would send more than a nurse and a doctor?" As usual, she spoke without thinking.

"Smart mouth, my dear. Might get you in trouble." He motioned towards Min, and with a gleam in his eye, Min backhanded her across the face.

Tears stung Abby's eyes, but damned if she'd cry in front of them.

Hirohito still looked amused. "Now, maybe you'll answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"Those men," she motioned towards the Sheep Pen, "were scheduled for a quarterly physical this morning."

He seemed satisfied with her answer. Without commenting, he barked another order, and immediately, two Japanese soldiers were at either one of her elbows. Visions of being hauled into the woods by these cretins made her struggle, but they kept her arms firmly held behind her. And led her towards the Sheep Pen.

Some of the fight left her. At least she'd be among friends.

"Seems where're in need of your assistance – Captain." He chuckled, almost as if the idea that a mere woman was a captain amused him.

Abby held her tongue.

He tsked as two other soldiers hauled a moaning Dr. Reese ahead of her and tossed him unceremoniously in the door of the Sheep Pen, where he laid in a heap just inside. "Such a waste. His expertise might have been useful. But now, we'll just settle for you, my dear."

* * *

The only clue they had to someone nearing the building was the guard who was watching what was happening snapped back to attention.

When the door was thrown open, they waited apprehensively.

Hell, it couldn't get much worse, could it?

When a bleeding Dr. Reese was thrown onto the floor, Boyington slapped his hands over his face.

"Oh, shit, those were _today_, weren't they?"

* * *

_I will not die here I will not die here I will not die here . . . _

Abby swallowed hard, her arms aching from the angle they were being held as they got closer to the stairway. She didn't even want to think what they needed her for. But, at least if she had a practical use, they wouldn't kill her.

Or, maybe they would anyway. She hadn't much experience in Oriental thinking.

And where was Bobby?

They flung her inside, and she had to scramble before she landed right on top of Dr. Reese, landing mostly on her side, momentarily knocking the breath out of her. She lay on her stomach, stunned, trying to breathe.

* * *

The sight of the doctor bleeding on the floor made them all wonder if the hospital was under fire, as well.

Especially Bobby. He didn't like that thought at all.

Jerry rose automatically to help the doctor to his feet, but was shooed away by a guard with one of those damned rifles.

But, that didn't make sense. They all heard the jeep drive up, so the hospital was still fine on the other side of the island. Or at least until those Japs captured McArthur.

Then, who the hell knew what would happen.

Dr. Reese must have driven out here on his own.

That meant Abby was still at the hospital. Safe and sound. She most certainly wouldn't wander out this way. He hadn't seen her in over a week and figured she planned on keeping it that way.

But, what he saw next made his blood run cold.

He rose to his feet without thinking when they tossed her to the floor, the guards closest to him shouting something he couldn't understand.

She didn't move.

_He'd kill them all, the sons of bitches!_

Gutterman put a firm hand on his arm. "Don't do it, Bobby. They'll just use it against you."

Through his rage, Jim's words rang true. He was right.

_Dammit!_

All Bobby could do was watch, the guards still yelling.

* * *

Hirohito leaned over Abby, asking her if she was alright.

Like he really cared, the asshole!

Abby let him get closer, her anger boiling in her chest, still pretending to gasp for breath.

"Captain, are you . . ."

Abby launched herself at Hirohito's legs, knocking him to the ground. She was prepared to bite, claw and scratch if she had to.

And, she hoped Boyington used the distraction to his advantage, even if they were outgunned or not.


	21. Chapter 21

FACT CHECK ALERT: I have been informed that Hirohito is the name of the late emperor of Japan ONLY. I looked it up, and The people's Sgt is correct - not that I ever doubted it or anything! I did look up the name of the head bad dude on this episode, and I think it's Sakuchi. Guess I should've done that before I wrote this thing, huh (wink, wink)? Just wanted you to know! Keep me on my toes, folks :-)

* * *

But, Boyington didn't have time to do a thing.

The minute Hirohito hit the ground, the little creep Min was in there, waving his rifle at everyone and yelling in a language they couldn't understand.

Three guards pulled Abby off Hirohito, and he was helped to his feet by his minions, brushing at his rumpled uniform as he steadied himself.

The soldiers held her firmly, but it didn't keep her from trying. She struggled in their grasp, but they didn't ease up.

Abby had never felt so helpless in her life.

Breathing heavily, she took a moment to glance around the room now that her eyes had adjusted. There were more soldiers with guns in here, so obviously, the pilots could do nothing when she attacked Hirohito.

_Great job, Reilly. All you did was piss him off_. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, still trying to pull her wrists out of their grasp. Although they might win, she sure wasn't going to go passively into the night.

"Captain Reilly." Hirohito had lost all amusement in his tone. Abby stopped struggling and looked at him. She knew that tone. She'd heard it from her father many times.

Hirohito put his finger underneath his chin to get a look at her, although she tried to snap her head away from him. "Reilly, Reilly, Reilly – ah! I remember now! Your father is Admiral Marvin Reilly, currently stationed on the USS Vanderbilt, isn't he? I heard he had a daughter stationed somewhere in the Pacific."

Abby paled. "What do you know about my father?"

"Don't worry, my dear, he's small potatoes, as you American's say." He moved closer, brushing the same strand of hair off her forehead as she watched warily, still firmly held by the guards. "But, I think we could use this little gift. Admiral Reilly just might turn over some highly sought-after property to us in exchange for his daughter. Unharmed or _harmed_."

Min leered at her from over his boss's shoulder. He knew what Hirohito was suggesting.

And that was just what Abby was afraid of.

* * *

Every nerve in Bobby's body was taunt, waiting. Mentally, he was wondering how many of these guys he could take out before he was taken out himself.

Gutterman kept whispering from nearby that he needed to calm down, and at first, it was working. He couldn't take everyone in this room. Even with all of them fighting, they still couldn't take them.

But, when that Hirohito creep started making suggestive threats towards her, something inside him snapped.

He lunged.

One of the guards shouted, and before Bobby knew what happened, he was face down on the floor, two guys on top of him.

Didn't stop him from fighting, though.

* * *

Abby saw him out the corner of her eyes, saw one of the Japanese catch him upside the head with his rifle. He went down fighting and was dragged to his feet.

Hirohito barked orders, and she heard several rifles cock.

"_No_!" she yelled. Immediately her head yanked back by her hair to silence her.

Hirohito glanced at her as her eyes pled with him.

"Please, just leave him alone! I . . . won't fight anymore. I _swear_!"

Hirohito glanced at Bobby, his barely controlled rage not even thwarted by the blow to the head, then back at her.

His face broke into a smile. "I see, Captain, I see. We won't hurt him. Yet. Lieutenant?"

It took Bobby a moment to realize Hirohito was addressing him, so intent was he on Abby. "What?" he said in a clipped voice.

"You make one more move like that, and you're dead. No matter how much this mere woman pleads for your life. Now, sit."

For a moment, Bobby looked as if he would pounce again, and Abby held her breath.

But, he sat back down next to Gutterman, a hateful look on his face.

Hirohito returned his gaze to her and said something to the guards. The soldiers holding her let her go. She didn't realize how weak-in-the-knees she was until she almost hit the floor. All she could do was stand there unsteadily, wondering what would happen to them all.

"Captain, look after that man over there," he motioned near the door, and Abby looked. It was French, his head in his hands and what looked like an extremely nasty blow to his forehead.

"What about the doctor?" She motioned towards Dr. Reese who had struggled to a sitting position, a glazed expression on his face.

"Take the bullet out. Wrap him up."

"Take the . . . I can't do that here! It's not sterile, and there's no equipment and . . ." _And I might screw it up, and he won't be able to operate ever again . ._ .

"We'll get equipment."

"But . . ."

Abby didn't have time to protest. After barking some more orders, Hirohito started towards the door.

Min gave her a leer before he followed.

"Major Boyington," Hirohito paused before he exited the building, "we had an agreement. That man gets treated, and you do as I say."

Abby glared at Boyington.

"I swear, I didn't think it would turn out this way," he hissed at her with a warning look from one of the guards. To Hirohito he said, "Yes, you have my word."

* * *

T.J. wanted to take them on himself, but Casey stopped him. "Look, you can't go out there. We've got to figure something out to them all, not just the ones after Abby!"

They watched helplessly as Abby was led inside, fighting all the way.

"I guess that's where the rest of them are," Casey muttered.

T.J. jumped at the sound of his voice. "Picked one helluva day to go fishing, didn't we?"

They both sat on the ground, out of sight from the guards roaming what had been their camp.

"So, now what?" T.J. asked.

"We heard what that Japanese major said. They're after McArthur. McArthur, of all people!"

"Can we even do anything? We're way outnumbered here," T.J. mumbled.

"Someone's got to get to a plane and put out a mayday."

"You know if they have this sort of ground coverage, they have air coverage, too. They'll shoot us down before we get far!"

Casey was intense. "It's the only thing we got. Listen, you do some sort of diversion, while I sprint across the field and . . ."

"Wait a minute! Who says you get to do the dangerous stuff? Why can't I sprint across the field to the planes?"

"Because I was the star field and track runner back home, that's why!" Casey hissed.

"Well, who says I can't run as fast as you?" T.J. wasn't going to back down.

"Fine! Let's settle this. 'Rock, Paper, Scissors.'"

"_What_ . . . are you kidding me?"

Casey held out his hand on his fist. He was not kidding.

Shaking his head, T.J. followed suit.

And soon found himself trying to figure out what kind of diversion he could manage.

It helped when he remembered the hand grenades that were still in crates near the air field.

* * *

Abby did the best she could for French with what supplies she had in the medical bag in the jeep that one of the Japanese soldiers so thoughtfully fetched for her.

He followed her finger when she asked him to. "How're you feeling, Don?"

"I've had better days," he muttered, flinching when she dabbed at the cut with a cloth.

"Me, too," Abby muttered. "I think you just have a concussion, but there's no way to tell. Here, take these." She pushed the few aspirin that were in her bag towards him and he swallowed them down.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

She put her hands on the table in front of her when she was done, just how she was instructed to do by Hirohito. And dared to glance towards the back of the room at Bobby.

He was watching her intently, almost as if she would disappear if he took his eyes off her.

She looked away, ignoring the lump in her throat.

* * *

Abby thought maybe Hirohito forgot about making her 'operate' on Dr. Reese. She was allowed to inspect his wound and clean it up the best she could, but then she was made to sit on the floor next to him and wait.

She couldn't see Bobby from where she sat. That was probably a good thing. It was going to take some sort of divine intervention to get her out of this alive, and she needed to stay on her A-game and look for an opening. Any opening. She didn't need whatever it was she felt for Bobby, or for any of the other men in this room, to get in her way.

Easier said than done.

Her mantra kept running through her head.

_I won't die here I won't die here I won't die here . ._ .

* * *

Hirohito strolled into the room and tossed the little knife at her feet.

Her heart sank.

She looked up at the man and his unreadable expression. "Why are you doing this? Why save this man when you're just going to kill us all, anyway?"

She wasn't the only one in the room wanting to know the answer to that question. She could feel the silence pressing around all of them.

"Maybe I just want to see how useful you can be to us," he gave her a smug smile before backing into a corner.

"Come on, Hirohito!" Boyington spoke up. "There's no need in this. She's not a surgeon. Just leave her alone and do whatever it is you came to do."

Hirohito didn't acknowledge Boyington even spoke, and Abby's heart sank even further.

She stared at the little knife sitting on the filthy floor. "I . . . I'll need something to use for an antiseptic."

With a short bark, she soon had two bottles of scotch in front of her.

Panic almost seized her then. She had to do this, whether she wanted to or not. If Hirohito liked what he saw, he'd keep her hostage for God knows how long. If she did a poor job, Dr. Reese could lose his arm. Or his life. And they could still kill her.

With a far steadier hand than she felt, she reached for the knife to sterilize it.

Maybe she could use it against these cretins . . .

"Oh, my dear, I should mention something," Hirohito's voice cut through her thoughts. He said something in Japanese, and before she knew what was happening, they had Bobby, two rifles pointed at his head.

Boyington was on his feet instantly.

"Sit down, Major," Hirohito ordered.

After a moment, Boyington complied.

"It's all up to Captain Reilly."

Abby jerked her eyes away from Bobby's.

"Captain Reilly, if you make one false move with that knife, the Lieutenant here will be shot. And his blood will be on your hands. Understood?"

Abby nodded once, clenching the knife in her hand.

"He's not serious, is he, Abby?" Dr. Reese asked weakly as she positioned him on the filthy floor.

"'Fraid so. Now, just lie back here, and let's see about this." She tried to sound confident. Nothing worse than a nervous surgeon.

Abby got him settled, feeling all eyes on her. She tore what was left of his bloody uniform away to expose the wound. It already had angry streaks of red spiraling along the skin. Great. Infection.

"Now, this might sting a little." She poured a liberal amount of scotch on the open wound, wishing like hell she had something better to use. He jumped, but didn't make a noise.

Next, she pressed along it with her fingers, trying her best to focus on what she had to do. She thought she felt something hard just beneath the surface and squinted at the wound to see through the blood.

Dr. Reese jumped when she squeezed too hard, and she removed her hands. "Sorry."

"Dammit, I'm sorry. I know I can't move, but it hurt like hell," he rasped. "Is it bad?"

"Looks routine. Except for the fact we're surrounded by Japanese with guns, and all I have to use is this little knife."

He shut his eyes and tried to relax. "Just get it over with."

"Here. Drink some of this." Abby helped him hold his head up and allowed him several liberal swallows from the bottle. Anything to help him through how bad this would be.

Abby stared at the knife in her hand after dousing it and her hands, too, with the booze. She glanced at his wound, then back at the knife.

"I'm going to have to have help holding him down."

Reese shuttered at the thought, but kept his eyes shut.

Hirohito nodded, then pointed at Jerry and Gutterman. "You two."

Glad to have something to do but watch their lives end around them, they both did as they were told.

"OK, guys, one of you hold each shoulder, but easy! Don't get close to the wound." The reek of scotch was going to make her sick as it wafted around them.

Uncertain with her own abilities, she wanted to turn back and look at Bobby just once. But, she could feel his eyes on her back.

_I will not die here I will not die here I will not die here . . ._

"You'll do fine," Gutterman whispered. "You're all he's got."

She didn't know if he meant Dr. Reese or Bobby. For a moment, tears blinded her vision.

But, only for a moment. Squaring her jaw and wiping the sweat from her forehead with her arm, she got down to business.


	22. Chapter 22

It was over, oh, God, it was over!

Gutterman and Jerry were ordered away from Dr. Reese, and they returned to their respective seats as Abby finished up. The doctor was out, which was probably good. If she didn't kill him with her archaic surgery, she was pretty sure these Japanese would when the got a chance.

Now, her mind was churning. If she could get away and warn someone, they could divert the plane that was supposed to be carrying McArthur. She glanced at the knife lying innocently on Dr. Reese's chest.

But, what about Bobby? Shouldn't she be willing to sacrifice the life of one man, maybe more, the save so many others? If the Japanese succeeded today, there's no telling where this war could lead.

Mind reeling, she stood, knife held defensively in her hand.

Gutterman leaned towards Boyington, eyes riveted on the situation. "You take the one on Bobby's left."

Boyington wanted to tell her not to do it, but then again, what would he do in her shoes? She stood there shaking, the Japanese guns pointed on Anderson, and the whole room held its breath.

"So, my dear, are you willing to sacrifice this man to try to save your general?" Hirohito was amused again.

Was she willing to do that?

There were 20 others outside with guns, so she wouldn't get far, anyway.

She met Bobby's dark eyes. They bored into hers. 'Go for it,' they seemed to be saying.

As a good soldier, she should go for it and try to save the top general in all of the military.

But, as a woman, she couldn't.

The knife clattered to the floor, scooped up by Hirohito. Everyone in the room relaxed.

The soldiers let Bobby go, shoving him back to his seat. He rubbed his hand wearily over his face.

"Tie her up," Hirohito ordered.

"You can't do that! It's against the Geneva Convention," Boyington argued.

"Tie her up. Gag her." Hirohito was gone.

They weren't nice about it either, binding her hands in front of her so tightly, they quickly went numb. The gag made her want to puke, they shoved it so far down her throat. The dirty cloth bit into the sides of her mouth, and she tasted blood.

All she could do was sit there next to the unconscious doctor, her hands and feet bound and wonder how in the hell they were going to get out of this.

* * *

Bobby had never felt so helpless in his life. He ran his hands through his hair so many times, he knew it was standing straight up.

But, hell, they were going to die, so what did it matter?

And, goddammit, why did they have to tie her like that?

It was trying to see the woman he had come to care so much about at the mercy of these creatures.

He wanted her to escape. Knew she had a better chance if they created enough of a diversion. He didn't even care if any of the rest of them got out of this alive, he wanted with every fiber of his being for her to survive.

Or course, if he could, too, that would also be great.

He watched her as she sat on the floor, wrists and ankles tied viciously with wire. Once, she used her shoulder to wipe her eyes, and Bobby thought he would cry, too.

He hated feeling helpless.

* * *

They all glanced up when the jeep roared through camp. There were shouts outside and crashing noises. The guards temporarily forgot their duties and let Jerry and Gutterman get a glance out the window.

"Holy cow, that jeep is going crazy!"

"Jeep? Who's in it, Bragg?" Boyington demanded.

"Nobody, Pappy," Jerry answered, a little dumbfounded as he watched the driverless jeep crash into a tent.

Hirohito was livid when the plane took off during the melee and threatened to shoot more people when no one would say who was in the plane.

Hell, Boyington didn't know if it was Casey or T.J., so he wasn't lying when he said he had no clue.

Just where was the other one, though?

* * *

"Mayday, mayday! This is Black Sheep One! Japanese have taken Vella La Cava, and all planes enroute need to turn back! Mayday! Mayday!"

All he got was static. Frustrated beyond belief, he kept trying.

When the Japanese zeroes showed up, he had to stop broadcasting and focus all his attentions on escape. But, he couldn't get away from them

When they tore a hole through his engine, he was so low, he didn't even have time to bail out before his plane hit the water.

* * *

Hirohito took pleasure in informing them the Corsair had been shot down and failed to send its transmission of the impending attack.

It was a long shot, anyway, but Abby felt tears sting her eyes again. It was either Casey or T.J. that went down with that plane.

One down, the rest of them to go.

All of their class A uniforms were piled into the middle of the floor, and they were instructed to get dressed. Abby kept her eyes focused on a spot on the floor while they sorted it out.

They had put a lot of hope in whoever was in that plane, and now, there was nothing. These Japanese were going to take the Black Sheep out to meet the plane carrying McArthur, overrun it and probably kill everyone. Best case scenario, only take them hostage.

And, what about her? Although rare, she had heard rumors of captured WACs and nurses being raped and tortured.

She'd rather die.

If she had to, she'd do something stupid, so they'd kill her instead.

What about Bobby?

She glanced over at him, as he stared dejectedly at his boots. A surge of emotion shot through her.

He was going to die. Not by getting shot out of the air like she always thought, either.

How ironic.

She'd never feel his touch again or hear him make a bad joke or . . .or anything that she'd come to expect.

She loved him.

She'd never realized it before. Or, maybe she did, but she sure as hell didn't want to admit it.

She'd fallen in love with a pilot, and now look where it was going to get her. No where.

Almost as if he could feel her eyes on him, he glanced at her. The hard glare in his eyes softened some, and he held his hands up slightly in a helpless gesture.

Abby shook her head vehemently.

_This is not your fault_.

* * *

Bobby wanted to hit somebody. Anybody! But, as they were led out the door, leaving her behind still tied up with the out-cold Dr. Reese, there wasn't anything he could do. He held her gaze for as long as he could before he was forced into formation just outside, his fists clenched, wishing like hell this would end differently.

He should be resigned to his fate, but he would _never_ be resigned to death. _Ever_!

* * *

The little guy who was left to guard her looked disappointed that he would be left behind.

If her hands and feet weren't tied, she could take him.

But, so much for that.

Too soon, all was quiet. The Black Sheep had been led away to face their doom, as well as McArthur's.

Maybe Casey or T.J. did transmit in time. Maybe there was a squadron of soldiers on their way now to save them. Maybe this will turn out alright. She could be worrying for nothing.

And maybe pigs would fly right in here and rescue her.

Dr. Reese moaned.

_I know how you feel, buddy._

It seemed like an eternity that she sat on that uncomfortable floor, trying to wriggle her hands to keep the circulation going on not think about what would happen to her the next minute, the next hour or even the next day.

They were all caught up in something that was way out of their control.

When the large plane that surely carried McArthur flew low overhead, she hung her head and fought tears.

* * *

Hirohito had them line up in formation. They stood in the hot sun, the Japanese out of sight, when the carrier plane lined up for a landing.

Bobby's heart felt like it would pound out of his chest. Honestly, he would have much preferred dying in air combat in his Corsair. At least, he'd have a fighting chance that way.

This waiting was killing him. And wondering about Abby still tied up at the compound.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he risked raising his arm and wiping it out of his eyes. He risked another look around. Everyone else was as pensive as he.

At least they'd all go out together.

The general's plane was taxiing down the runway when he felt something hit his foot. Glancing down, he was shocked to see it was a grenade.

What in the _hell_?

He searched the tree line quickly until he saw him.

It was T.J.! God bless him, he'd never been so glad to see that scoundrel in his _life_!

Bobby saw that all the Japanese in his vicinity were intent on the plane, which was slowly making its way to the drop-off point. So, he bent over and picked it up, quickly getting back to position.

"Pappy!" he hissed.

The major risked a glance, and Bobby held out his hand momentarily.

Pappy grinned and turned back around.

T.J. flung more grenades their way, and Bobby picked them up and passed them on.

As the plane was firing down, they all stood with the grenades hidden in their palms, wondering what their cue was going to be.

* * *

T.J. hoped like hell this worked. He was partially exposed to the airstrip as he stood next to the crates of machine gun bullets. His fingers shook as he desperately tried to light match after match, the smell of sulfur burning his eyes.

When one finally flamed, his eyes lit up. He touched it to the powder he had scattered on the ground from one of the shells and ran like hell for cover.

* * *

The American soldiers came out of the plane loaded for bear about the time T.J.'s crates exploded.

It was pandemonium. The Black Sheep scattered for cover and used the first element of surprise they'd had all day to get some revenge on whatever Japanese they could get their hands on.

* * *

The explosion was loud, even back at camp, and Abby's eyes widened.

This was worse than she thought.

The rat-a-tat of small weapons fire reached her ears. The Japanese guard glared longingly out the window.

Abby wished he'd go. Maybe she could crawl away like a worm. Get help. Get away.

But, where would she go? What could she do?

* * *

Min knew when the chips were down. He was only out for himself. There was no way he'd let himself be captured by these American dogs.

At least without first getting a taste of that high-strung American nurse tied up back at camp.

This battle would take a while. He'd have time.

Then, he'd take her and get off this island before anyone ever knew he was gone.

Min melted into the woods, the sound of the skirmish fading behind him, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

* * *

I know this is mean and cruel and such, but I'm going camping. And, we leave all electronic equipment at home. No updates until Sunday, maybe Monday (insert evil laughter here). Didn't want you to think I had died or anything :-D


	23. Chapter 23

I HAVE RETURNED! :-) Back from camping - enjoyed the respite from everyone else's drama. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy good FICTION drama, but real-life (mostly attention-hound) drama gives me a headache.

* * *

Abby jumped when the mean looking Captain stomped inside, startling even her little guard.

Min barked an order, and the guard immediately hustled off.

If Min made it back here, the battle noises she heard where not in the American's favor.

She tried to swallow despite the gag in her mouth, but almost choked when Min turned his empty stare towards her.

Using her legs to move as fast as she could, she scooted backwards as far as she could, her back hitting the wall, the look on his face scaring her more than she'd ever been in her entire life.

He kept coming, licking his lips in anticipation.

Why wouldn't Dr. Reese _wake up_? Maybe he could do _something_.

Min reached out and snatched her to her feet by her hair.

_That's it. If she got out of this, she was shaving her head._

He threw her onto one of the tables, and she hit the side awkwardly, bruising her ribs. He picked her up by her shirt and tossed her on her back, untying her feet as he unbuckled his pants.

_This is not happening. This is not happening_.

She tried to squirm away, but he had a grip on her still-tied hands. She couldn't scream, although she tried against the gag.

Soon, he was on top of her, fiddling at her own pants. When she wouldn't be still, he hit her. The gag deflected most of it, but she could feel the blood from her nose dripping down her chin, along with her fear-induced sweat.

Pressing himself against her, making her want to vomit, he tried to kiss her throat, still fumbling with her pants. He used one hand to tear her shirt, the sound of ripping fabric making her squirm harder.

Thank God she didn't wear the nurses' outfit with the skirt!

She felt something against her bound hands.

_Was it . . .yes, it was! His pistol._

Lord help her, she hoped it was loaded.

He was so occupied, he didn't realize when she awkwardly pulled the pistol out of the holster with her bound hands, gritting her teeth in concentration.

She cocked it the best she could, and with it pressed against his stomach, she pulled the trigger.

Too late, he realized his error.

It was such close range, the sound was muffled against him.

Min jerked, staring at her, eyes wide.

Abby lost the gun, and it clattered to the floor.

Mouth open in shock, he slumped against her, eyes going dark.

When one heave, she flung him away, and he limply landed on the floor next to the gun. He didn't move.

Abby sobbed once and laid there on the table, half exposed, trying to catch her breath. She took inventory. Her shirt was torn, but still serviceable, and her pants were still fastened. With her hands still bound, she didn't think she could re-button them anyway. Blood was smeared across her jacket, but she was sure it wasn't hers.

Abby rolled onto her side, feeling like she could be sick. But, she'd choke to death with this gag. Feebly, she tried to maneuver her hands to it and hopefully loosen it.

No such luck. It was too tight, and her hands put in such an awkward position.

But, her sick feeling soon passed.

The sounds of a fight from the airfield were gone.

She struggled into a sitting position and unsteadily made it to her feet. Avoiding the obviously dead Min, she scrambled for the gun. With one last look at the still out Dr. Reese, she ran for the door.

She didn't know what she was going to do, but she wasn't going to sit around here and wait for the Japanese to come back and find she'd killed their second-in-command.

And, she had to find Bobby.

She plunged into the woods, not daring to take the main paths to the airstrip.

* * *

They all stared at each other for a moment.

They were alive. All of them. Except for a few cuts and scraps, they had managed to overcome!

It was a little much to comprehend in such a short amount of time.

Boyington was the first to recover. He grabbed the nearest soldier he saw, a young sergeant who was helping round up the Japanese. "Is McArthur on that plane?"

The sergeant looked a little taken aback at the gruff question. "Um, no sir. They received a partial transmission from Black Sheep One. A mayday. They diverted his flight back to Esprito and brought us in as a decoy."

Boyington broke into a grin, but it immediately faltered. "Black Sheep One. Did you find him?"

The sergeant would have hated to give this man bad news. Good thing he didn't have to. "Yes sir. Navy fished Lieutenant Casey out about a half hour ago. He's on his way now."

Boyington whooped aloud. When he spotted T.J. nonchalantly sauntering up to them. He surprised the younger man by pulling him into a bear hug. "T.J., you sonovabitch! You did it!"

"Aw, not by myself. Casey . . ." He paled. "What happened to Casey?"

"The crazy bastard got shot down! But, he's alright. Saved the day, both of you did!"

They were immediately surrounded by the rest of the squadron, and there was another round of back-slapping and man-hugging.

Pappy suddenly got serious. "Who had the duty? Did you, Jerry?" He shook his finger in Jerry's direction.

Jerry was shocked. "No, sir! It was my day off."

"Who had the duty then?"

There was a loud argument as to who was on guard duty and whose fault it was.

It was good to be back to normal, but Anderson had something else he had to do.

"Lieutenant Anderson, just where do you think you're going?" Pappy called out to him as he slipped away.

Anderson turned around, mouth agape. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

Pappy grinned. "Go on! Go get her, stud!"

Anderson didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

The little Japanese guard trembled from the relative safety of the brush on the edge of the airstrip. He watched his fellow soldiers gathered up by the enemy, at least the few that were still alive.

He was shaking so hard, they had to hear his teeth chattering. But, the Americans celebrated close by, not even acknowledging he was there.

It would be without honor to surrender without a fight. His friends fought and surrendered. He, however, had not fired a single shot. Just made to guard that crazy American woman and the doctor she operated on.

He didn't want to think about that. Watching her dig that bullet out had almost made him sick. But, he didn't want to dishonor himself by throwing up, either.

Now, if he was allowed to be captured without defending himself, he would dishonor himself and his family. His parents and sisters would not be able to go out in public without fear of humiliation or worse.

But, he couldn't take on all these men! He was just a boy! Or, at least he was until they dragged him from the safety of his mother's arms just one month ago.

One of the Americans broke away from the group and after some conversation, he headed in the direction of camp.

The one that tried to help the nurse.

But, Captain Min was back there with the nurse. He had a pretty good idea of what Min was doing.

He had to protect his superior officer, rather he agreed with his actions or not.

At peace with his decision, he stood, stepping into the path of the American, his rifle pointed at his chest.

* * *

Abby couldn't get close enough in the trees to see what was going on. She kept hearing noises around her and was convinced it was one of those infernal Japanese soldiers coming to get her, to punish her for what she'd done.

Sweat trickling down her back, she stopped to listen, the pistol still griped awkwardly in her filthy hands.

And heard American voices. _Happy_ American voices.

Maybe this had turned out alright after all . . .

She stepped onto the main pathway cautiously, part of her still afraid of the enemy that could be lurking nearby.

She was right to be wary.

Right on the edge of the airfield, one lone soldier stepped out of the reeds on the opposite side of the pathway, not 20 yards in front of her. But, he wasn't facing her direction. He had his rifle trained on someone else.

It was Bobby.

Bobby skidded to a stop and stared at this new threat.

There wasn't anyone else nearby to help.

Abby didn't even think. Painfully, she pulled the hammer back with her still-tied hands and didn't even take the time to sight it.

It recoiled in her hand when it went off, echoing loudly in her head.

* * *

When the scared Japanese soldier stumbled out of the woods, Anderson halted immediately. He may have been scared, but from the looks of it, he knew how to use that rifle, already taking aim, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Bobby didn't have time to react.

When the gun went off, he flinched, waiting for the pain of metal eating through flesh.

But, there was nothing.

He felt his chest with his hands.

Yep. Nothing.

The Japanese soldier, now with a blank expression on his face, fell forward into the dirt in a heap, his finger still on the trigger, a neat little hole in the center of his back.

_What_ just _happened_?

There was shouting and running from behind him, but it didn't quite register.

He looked past the dead soldier.

Abby still had the pistol aimed at the dead guy, obviously afraid he would get up again. She was bloody, her clothes torn, her expression panicked and her mouth still gagged and hands still tied.

He'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

* * *

The Japanese soldier was down. She waited for any twitch, a sign he was still alive. She'd empty the gun in him if she had to. She'd killed back there, and she'd kill again if she had to.

Her eyes met Bobby's, and all the mock bravado she'd been convincing herself of possessing faded away, tears springing to her eyes, and she put her still-bound hands down, the pistol falling from her fingers into the dirt.

Before she realized it, he was there, untying the gag around her mouth.

"Abby, sweetheart? Are you OK? How did you get away? There's blood! Are you hurt?" He started asking questions before he even had the rag out of her mouth.

Her mouth felt like 50 cotton balls had been stuffed in there for a year. "I've been better," she croaked.

He crushed her against him without untying her wrists. He couldn't help it. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry."

"It's not your fault." Her voice was muffled from being pressed against his jacket, but she didn't care. Not at all. He was safe. She was safe.

This had turned out a whole helluva lot better than she thought it would have.

They were surrounded almost instantly, and he had to let her go, albeit reluctantly. One of the soldiers from the plane produced a knife and cut the wire from her bloody wrists.

"What happened? Where's McArthur?" She was still in a daze.

"Damned if Casey didn't get through to him, and they sent a decoy plane!" Jerry exclaimed.

"Casey? It was Casey that went down." Dear, sweet Casey. . .

Pappy saw her expression. "He's just fine! Be back here in no time."

Abby's eyes went to another familiar face, and she threw her arms around him. "T.J.! I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

"I didn't think any of us would live to see a friendly face again," T.J. held her close for a moment, but at Anderson's scowl, he let her go.

"T.J. got us these grenades and created the perfect diversion," Gutterman said.

Abby reached for Bobby's hand, wanting to know he was close by. He took it in hers and squeezed it.

"Ma'am . . . uh, Captain? Are you alright?" one of the soldiers from the plane asked.

Abby knew she looked like something the cat drug in and adjusted her ripped shirt across her shoulders the best she could. "I'm fine, Corporal."

The soldier motioned. "The blood . . ."

Abby took a deep breath. She could still feel that creepy Japanese officer on top of her. "It's not mine." She motioned back towards the compound. "He's in the Sheep Pen . . ." For some reason, she couldn't say 'dead.'

She'd killed two men in a matter of minutes.

It was a sobering thought.

But, there'd be three dead men if she didn't get Dr. Reese proper care.

She jumped into action, grateful for something to focus on beside what happened that morning. Suddenly all business, she let go of Bobby's hand and started back towards the compound. "Corporal, there's a wounded doctor back in camp. He needs to get back to the hospital as soon as possible."

"But, ma'am-uh, Captain. This area isn't cleared yet!"

Abby turned back around and picked up the Japanese pistol, putting it in the back of her pants. "I'm not leaving that injured man there. He's been through enough already." Back ramrod straight, she dared him to stop her as she stomped back towards camp.

The corporal sighed through his teeth. "Is she always like that?"

They all looked to Bobby for an answer. He shrugged. "Basically, yeah."

The Corporal shrugged before following her.

Bobby started to go with him, but was stopped. "No, sir, Lieutenant. The fewer people we have running around here, the better. Orders from Colonel Lard."

"But . . ."

Pappy put his hand on Bobby's arm. "She's alright."

He watched her disappear around the bend, the corporal scampering to keep up. "For now."

* * *

Abby and the Corporal had Dr. Reese out the door and back into the shot-up jeep from that morning in no time. She ignored the Corporal when he pushed at the still form of Min on the floor.

He stopped her before she could start up the jeep. "Did he . . . uh . . . do you need . . ." He blushed five shades of red.

Abby rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. "He tried, but I got his gun and shot him before he could . . . finish." She reached in the back of her pants and handed him the pistol before firing up the jeep and heading back to the hospital feeling much older than she did that morning.

The nurses had heard the commotion from the airfield and were put on lockdown, and Abby tried to explain while they unloaded Dr. Reese, who finally seemed to be coming around. After exclamations all around, they got down to business. When Arant tsked at the sight of Dr. Reese's wounds, Abby almost lost it right there.

But, thankfully, Maria got her out of the way before she did.

"How _dare_ that old biddy cluck like that? I did the best I could with what I had!"

Maria patted her on the arm, leading her to the showers. "I know you did."

Abby felt her quick burst of anger waning. There had been too much of that today. She had to recharge her batteries. "It was awful. I thought we were all going to meet our maker."

"You did better than I would've done. Probably curled up in a ball and stayed there. Here, take a shower. That should help."

Come to think of it, that was a good idea.

Abby stripped down in front of Maria. "Here. Burn those." She stepped inside the shower and stood in the stream of water, watching it wash the blood, sweat and grime down the drain. All that dirt swirling around almost had her in a trance.

_You didn't die today. Just like you thought. _

_But, now what?_

Hopefully, the further away from today she got, the less it would affect her. But, right now, it made her stand there and take a long look at herself and her life that was almost taken from her.

What exactly did she want, anyway?

She stood there until the water ran cold.

Shaking herself out of her revelry, she washed her hair and scrubbed her body until she was red.

Maria had laid clean clothes out for her, and she put them on quickly.

It may seem different now, but she still had a job to do. Feeling better physically, if not mentally, Abby went back to the hospital to check on Dr. Reese.


	24. Chapter 24

"Whaddaya mean, you're going back to Vella La Cava?" Gutterman protested.

Bobby crossed his arms across his chest. "I don't need to give you a reason."

Gutterman banged his glass down on the table in the corner of the little bar on Espirito. "You're telling me that you have 48 hours left over in your R&R the military so thankfully gave us for saving their general, and you're _going back_? You _can't_ fly any missions! What's the point?"

Bobby didn't want to have to spell it out, but it appeared Gutterman didn't get it.

"Don't make the man give you the gory details," Pappy leaned back, enjoying his drink, eyeing a pretty brunette at the next table.

Gutterman opened his mouth, realized what Pappy was talking about, and shook his head. "Damn broad. She'll kill him before this's over with."

"Go home, Anderson. Have a ball. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Yes, _sir_!"

Anderson found a flight that would drop him off, which wasn't hard to do. Vella La Cava was only about 45 minutes away.

He had been miserable, since they got there. The military had whisked them off to Espirito, dangling booze and broads in front of them as bait, probably to get their minds off what had happened. Not 24 hours after the Japanese were captured, they were all on a plane, 72-hour passes in their pockets.

Anderson tried to find Abby before they left, but she was in surgery. He didn't have time to talk to her earlier because they had debriefings and had to practically rebuild parts of the camp. All he could do was leave her an awkward note, telling her he'd see her when he got back.

But, he didn't want to wait that long to tell her what he had to say. He had it all planned out in his head, too: the heartfelt, most eloquent words he could think of to tell her how he felt about her. How scared he was when they were captured. How livid he was at that Min when he found out what he had tried to do to her.

Sure, she was probably going to fight him. She was back to her ever-efficient self, propping up that damn wall she used to keep her true feelings away from everyone else.

Well, he had gotten glimpses of her true self, and he didn't want to give that up without a fight.

He landed at the almost-deserted camp determined to go through with it. No matter her reaction.

Maria and one of the mechanics were sitting in the shade of one of the Corsairs. The mechanic was obviously enjoying the lack of air activity by finding other activities to entertain him, including having the dark-haired beauty feed him raisins while his head lounged in her lap.

Maria threw him a hesitant wave as he stepped off the plane. Not paying a whole of attention, Bobby returned it, still trying not to talk himself out of what he wanted to say to Abby.

When Bobby disappeared out of sight, Maria practically dumped her mechanic out of her lap and raced back to camp.

* * *

"I tell you, he came _back_!" Maria was trying to catch her breath after her sprint to the hospital.

Abby had to admit, she was curious as to why. "Are you sure it was just him? I thought they had two more days." Two more _agonizing_ days. She couldn't believe he'd disappeared without even trying to talk to her, but hell, what did she expect? Even though it seemed like so long ago, it wasn't like she had been the most forthcoming before the Japanese took over the island.

But, it just seemed like they _connected_ during that fiasco. Maybe it was just her. All a figment of her own imagination.

Abby, pen poised over her now-forgotten file, just realized Maria was still talking away. "Um . . . what were you saying?"

"Go see him! _Now_!"

Maria tried to push her out the door.

Abby practically stopped her by jamming her foot against the door jamb. "Maria! I'm on duty! If Bobby wants to see me, he'll come to me."

Maria gave up. "No one ever wins the battle of egos. And between Mr. Marine Corps Black Sheep and Ms. My-Daddy-is-a-Two-Star-General, you will get nowhere." With one final flounce, she was gone.

Abby shook her head at the interruption and tried to focus on her work.

But, it was difficult knowing Bobby was so close.

* * *

Abby ate a leisurely dinner with the other nurses, took a shower and threw on the first clothes she could find, just shorts and a T-shirt. She tried to thumb through a book, but found it did not interest her.

Where was Bobby?

Abby snorted at her own presumptiveness. Oh, _sure_! He had flown all the way back for her! No facts proved it, but it amazed her that she still jumped to that conclusion.

How pitiful was that?

She punched at the pillow behind her back and crossed her arms on her chest, annoyed. Briefly, she thought about sleeping, but that had been difficult. Either she had nightmares about the Japanese hiding in the woods trying to get her, or she had these extremely hot, sexy dreams of she and . . . _crap_! _There I go again!_

Abby seriously doubted her sanity. She must have malaria or something, the way just thinking about him affected her sensibilities.

Well, why did she have to wait for him? Maybe, she'd just go find him herself.

That's right, take charge. Grab the bull by the horns and off she goes.

She didn't stop to think about it. She'd probably change her mind if she did.

Maria caught her on the way out the door. "I _knew_ you'd change your mind! Here, take this!" She shoved something into Abby's hand.

Abby held it up. A key. "What's this?"

Maria's eyes sparkled. "Remember how you told me I was crazy for volunteering to keep the VIP cabin clean on the other side of the island. You know, the quiet side?"

"Well – yeah. So?"

"Let's just say that cabin has many other uses, too. And, I'm the only one with a key."

Maria's implied meaning finally reached Abby. She tried to put it back in Maria's hands. "I'm just going to settle this once and for all. I'm seriously doubting it'll be . . ."

Maria pushed it back. "Take it. If you don't need it, bring it back."

Abby didn't want to argue. The longer she stood here, the better chance she'd have of changing her mind. "Fine." She slipped it in her pocket and turned to go get a jeep.

"I'll take over your shift in the morning if you're not back!" Maria called out to her retreating form.

"Don't count on it!" Abby called back.

Maria doubted that. "Clean sheets are in the closet!"

* * *

Bobby stored his gear in his tent that he shared with French and took off that damn uncomfortable Class A uniform, opting for the usual olive drab shirt and pants.

At least he could be comfortable when she rejected him . . . no don't think like that!

But, she obviously wanted to be rid of him before the Japanese attacked. Why would anything had changed?

Bobby lost a lot of his determination and decided to go to the Sheep Pen for a drink first. Couldn't hurt.

* * *

The sun was drifting slowly past the trees when she finally found him. She'd looked in his tent and saw his gear strewn about. So, Maria wasn't lying after all. Next, she'd tried the airstrip, but the skeleton crew lounging about hadn't seen him since he'd gotten off the plane. She'd even checked the beach, but it was deserted, the waves crashing on shore.

Just where the hell was he?

On a whim, she decided to peek into the Sheep Pen. Part of her wanted to know if she could handle even seeing it after what had almost happened in there.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the semi-darkness, and she let go of the breath she was holding. She was glad to see the entire building had been rearranged, all signs of what had happened a few days ago erased.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who was skittish of the building.

Sure enough, he was sitting at the bar, an almost-empty bottle of scotch in front of him.

Trying her best not to analyze the situation too much, she settled next to him on the stool. He didn't even look surprised to see her, but he didn't say anything.

Abby reached around the counter and grabbed a semi-clean glass, pouring herself a liberal amount. But, when the smell of it reached her nostrils, she remembered the surgery on the now-healing Dr. Reese, and her stomach lurched.

Nope, too soon.

She pushed the glass aside. "Seems to me you could have gotten drunk on Esprito."

Bobby held up his glass, letting the last rays of sun shine through amber liquid. "I only came in here to get a little courage to tell you what I had to say. Apparently, I needed more courage than I thought."

Abby turned her half-full glass around-and-around, her heart pounding. "Did you think I would bite? Well, I won't. Unless you want me to."

He chuckled half-heartedly at her attempt at levity. But, he had other thoughts on his mind. "If you hadn't killed Min, I would have for what he tried to do. When I found out, I was actually angry that he was already dead."

Abby hadn't told him, but she wasn't surprised someone had. "I still can't believe I killed two of them. Min, I didn't feel so sorry about, but that little guard . . ." She shuddered, throwing back her drink for a diversion. It burned her throat as it slid into her stomach.

"Trust me, I'm glad you killed the guard. Don't mean to sound heartless or anything, but it was either him or me. I'd much rather it have been him."

Abby felt like a boulder had been rolled away, and all her emotions came rolling out. "I keep having nightmares about it," she blurted out, "and in them, he gets you instead."

"That makes two of us. Except, I keep hearing you calling for me, and I can't get to you."

"Hand me that bottle. I need another drink."

He slid it towards her, and she liberally filled her glass, taking a long swallow. This heart-felt stuff was taking more out of her than she realized.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, side-by-side, not touching.

"I'm a pilot, and I know you hate that. I also would be willing to bet you're still a little ticked at me for tricking you like we did that night we first met."

"I'm about over that, I'm pretty sure."

She saw him smile in the mirror behind the bar.

"But, I'm not going to offer excuses for any of it. I'm just a poor city boy who finds himself in trouble more often than not. You deserve better. But, I love you." He sat his glass down with a thunk. This was not how he practiced, but it seemed a little more . . . realistic. "I don't know how it happened. You broke my nose, for Christ's sake! Not that I didn't deserve it. But, I could seem to get you out of my mind-"

He kept rambling so long, Abby almost thought she'd missed what he said.

He _loved_ her?

Well, hell, isn't that what she thought about him when the Japanese had guns to his head?

Throwing caution to the wind, Abby took the glass out of his hands and sat it on the bar. Sliding off her own stool, she put his arms around her as he watched her, a little befuddled at what was going on.

"If you don't kiss me right now, I'll break your nose again."

He grinned down at her. "Yes, _ma'am_!" And did as he was told.

As soon as her lips touched his, all playfulness vanished. Abby had become familiar with the stirring low in her stomach at his touch.

Before too long, she realized she wanted to do something about it.

"I could throw you on this bar right now, you know," he growled, his breath hot on her neck.

Abby didn't think she wanted to go there. Reminded her too much of. . .

"I have a better idea." She detached herself from him and took his hand.

* * *

The cabin was for VIPs – very important personnel that found themselves on the island and wanted a fairly decent place to stay that didn't involve bunking with the enlisted men. The nurses, being women so it was their job, often fought over who would _not_ keep the place tidy.

Lucky for them, VIPs were staying away since the Japanese got the drop on them.

And, lucky for them, her new roomie was smart enough to realize the advantages of having a key to such a cozy, out-of-the-way place.

Abby drove. It helped her keep her hands to herself.

She didn't know what was wrong with her, but apparently, he was having the same issues.

The minute she choked the jeep down, their hands were all over each other.

If Abby was in her right mind, she would have at least been relieved to notice the little cabin was completely surrounded by vegetation. The chances of them being seen were minimal.

But, she was not in her right mind as she straddled his lap, his hands already roaming freely at will, their tongues intertwined.

Already half-undressed, somehow, they made it to the door, unlocked it and groped their way inside. They didn't even bother with any lights as they made their way to the bedroom.

It was a small set-up. Abby had been there many times when it was her turn to straighten it. The front door opened into a small sitting room, and through it, there was a bedroom. A small bath was off the bedroom.

Abby noted the sheets already on the bed.

Boy, Maria was right after all, wasn't she?

It didn't take long to clutter the little bedroom with their clothes, tossed carelessly about in their impatience brought on by desire.

Once they were underneath the blankets, Abby almost put a halt to the whole business. Her fingers absently traced the scars on his shoulder and chest from being marooned on the island only a scant month before.

This was crazy! Insane! Unbelievable! He could die tomorrow in an identical crash. He just got lucky the first time, that's all. But, how long could his luck hold out? Could she handle it?

He looked down to see what she was doing, her expression hard to read in the dim light. Realizing she was distracted, he took her hand in his and brushed the fingertips against his lips gently.

"Abigail. You don't have to do this." As much as it pained him to say it, he had to. Her skin was so soft, and the smell of her was about to drive him so crazy, he almost didn't think he could stop himself if she wanted.

Abby made her decision and pushed all maudlin thoughts aside. She reached for him, pulling him down to her, forgetting, even for a little while, what terrified her the most about getting too involved.

* * *

The ever-thoughtful Maria had supplied food, too. They had no need to leave.

And, they didn't.

Tony and his grunting and rutting were forgotten memories by now. Bobby took his time to please her, and Abby learned new things about herself that she had no clue would arouse her like that.

And Bobby did want to please her. Very much so. He wanted to hear her cry out his name, her back arched, muscles taunt.

Not that Abby only took. She also learned she knew how to please a man, rather Tony ever realized it or not.

But, they thought about none of that. Nothing mattered but what was in that little bedroom with the scratchy sheets inside the small cabin on an island in the South Pacific. There was no war. No death. No one out there who wanted to kill them for their nationality.


	25. Chapter 25

"So, your gym teacher caught you, huh?"

"Red-handed. I was suspended for a week. My mother was fit-to-be-tied."

They were walked along the beach, hand-in-hand. Hunger had brought them back out 'into the world' as they called it, and they had to settle for some goodies Bobby's mother had sent from home.

"What about your father?"

Bobby stopped and picked up a rock, flinging it into the rolling surf. "He beat me so badly, I couldn't sit for three days. All for peeking in the girl's shower."

He took her hand again, and they resumed their stroll, the water ebbing and flowing around their ankles.

By now, Abby knew all about him. His abusive father. The way his mother tried to keep the attention deflected from him by inserting herself as his target whenever he was drunk enough to want to hit somebody. The way he took to the wrong crowd because they approved of the petty crimes he committed. Approval he never got at home.

She didn't offer judgment. Each person had their own demons. She had spent an hour this morning moaning about hers as they lay together, tangled between the sheets. Growing up with a military father. Moving from place to place. Her inability to form real relationships with anyone outside her family.

"Does he still hit her?"

Bobby shrugged. "Not so much now. After I got out of basic and came home for a visit, he got drunk and tried it again. I hit him so hard, it knocked out two teeth."

Abby could tell he gleaned no satisfaction from it. "I guess a man always craves the approval of his father. Just like my brothers and Dad."

"What about _you_ and your dad?"

"I think my father didn't know what to do with a girl. As a result, I didn't know how to be one. My mother always bemoaned the fact that she never really had the kind of daughter she wanted. You know: the kind that sewed and cooked and played dress-up."  
"It's amazing that we seemed to disappoint our parents, but for totally different reasons."

She wrapped her arm around his waist. "As far as I can tell, you've done nothing over here but give him a reason to make you proud."

"I stopped worrying about that a long time ago. I think his brain's so fried on whiskey, he couldn't manage the emotion." He draped his arm over her shoulders as they walked for a little ways in silence.

Abby tried to stifle a yawn.

"Didn't know I was boring you, Abigail?" he teased.

"Well, it seems to me I haven't had much sleep over the last couple of days, Robert," she teased back.

"You know, I have just the place in mind for a mid-afternoon nap."

"Where?"

He offered his arm, and she played along, linking her arm with his.

"You'll see."

* * *

He was right. The hammock was heavenly. The removed it from the corner of the Sheep Pen and set it up in sight of camp. Other then a moment of uproarious laughter when the both tried to climb into it, almost flipping over, they figured it out. If he lay on his back, she almost had to lie on her side almost on top of him to keep from tipping out. But, with his hand playing in her hair, they were both soon sound asleep in the afternoon sun, much to the amusement of the skeleton crew still on staff.

* * *

"Lookin' comfortable there, Anderson."

They didn't hear the plane land. It was such a common occurrence that it didn't even register.

Reluctantly, Bobby tipped his cowboy hat off his face long enough to see who was talking. Several sets of bemused expressions met his. He rolled his eyes and let the hat fall back over his face. Abby didn't even move. "You're back early, guys."

"Well, it seemed that T.J. here got quite comfortable with one of the general's girlfriends, and if he didn't scram as soon as possible, we were all in trouble," Gutterman added. "But, she was a looker."

T.J. grinned. "That she was."

"We're gonna have a drink. Thought you might like to join us. Tell us about the rest of your R&R." Gutterman smirked.

"Looks like you might need a little R&R to get over your R&R," French piped up.

With her head still buried in Bobby's side, Abby stuck out her hand, middle finger extended.

Bobby tipped the hat up again to see what had the guys snickering with laughter.

"I believe you all have your answer, gentleman. Plus, I still have 'til 1900 hours. So, if you'll excuse us, we're quite busy." He let the hat fall and got comfortable again.

The Black Sheep laughed and sauntered back to their tents, ready to return to the real world.

* * *

It was bound to happen eventually. 1900 hours. The end of R&R.

They were still lying in the hammock as darkness surrounded them, the sounds of uproarious laughter coming from the Sheep Pen just out of sight.

The debriefing meeting for the next day's air strike was about to commence.

Abby had ignored the inevitable long enough. He had to go back to being a pilot with the lifespan of one year, and she had to go back to worrying herself sick over him.

It was so easy to ignore these facts when they made love to each other. And, after the Japanese invasion, it seemed so clear that anything could happen to either one of them. She couldn't go around worrying about it.

But, she couldn't help it. Not one bit.

Her leg was cramped, but she didn't want to shift into a comfortable position. Just a little bit longer. That's all she was asking.

She listened to the steady beat of his heart. It was reassuring. But, who knew how long it could beat?

Bobby was awake, after all. He kissed the top of her head. "Wake up, sleepy head."

She buried her face in his chest. "I've been awake."

"I've got to get to that meeting."

"I know."

But, neither one of them moved.

"Too bad we don't have time for a quickie."

Abby chuckled. "Don't you think you had about enough of that the last few days?"

He gathered her into his arms and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly. Abby felt the familiar stirrings again.

"I don't think I could ever have enough of you," Bobby whispered hoarsely.

"I think hammock sex probably ranks right up there with little boat sex. Sounds like a good idea in theory, but not in practice." She kissed him back. "Not that I wouldn't want to try it or anything . . ."

"Anderson! It's 1900 hours! Get your ass in here on the double!"

They both looked up and could see Pappy silhouetted against the light from the Sheep Pen doorway.

"Well, there's my cue," Bobby said reluctantly.

Carefully, they extracted themselves from the hammock. He pulled her to him one last time. Abby didn't protest, just laid her head on his chest, listening to the reassuring sound of his heart.

"Are you OK?" he asked, his voice rumbling from in his chest.

"I'm fine. I'm always fine."

"I had a great time, you know?"

"Wow. You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?" That's right. Use caustic remarks to avoid thinking about what was really going on.

She could feel him chuckle and propped her chin on his chest to get a look at his face. "You know, if you make it back from that mission tomorrow, there can be plenty more good times."

"Hey, if ever I needed an incentive to stay alive, that's it!" He leaned down and kissed her hard.

"Anderson? Don't make me come out there with a bucket of water!" Pappy bellowed.

"Alright already! Jeez!" Anderson let her go. "See you tomorrow, right?"

Abby tried not to cry. "Right!" she said a little too brightly.

She watched him race to the Sheep Pen and his friends, the sound of back slapping and high-fiving make her shake her head.

Men. Or more specifically, pilots.

Just what have I gotten myself into?

Good thing she had a big job ahead of her before she could return to work. Maria would want the VIP cabin cleaned top to bottom.

That was just the ticket to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied.

* * *

Abby finally crawled into bed after midnight. Maria was sound asleep in her cot, and Abby carefully placed the key on her nightstand. She owed Maria, bigtime, especially for having her roomie cover her shifts for her while she was cavorting with Bobby.

It was hard to get to sleep. And not just worrying about Bobby, either. In two short days, she had become accustomed to his closeness, to falling asleep in his arms to waking up to his kisses.

For once in her life, she'd allowed herself to need another human being.

And it scared her. Enthralled her, too, but scared the shit out of her.

Maria sighed and flopped over in her bunk.

Abby did the same. Soon, she was asleep.

* * *

The noise of the Corsairs flying over woke her at dawn. For a moment, she didn't know where she was and reached out for Bobby.

But, she was alone.

As the roar of the engines faded away, she buried her face in her pillow and cried.

* * *

When the planes returned later that afternoon, Abby tried not to pay it any attention. She wouldn't let herself glance out the window and count them. She couldn't do it. Not every time. Plus, she had mounds of paperwork to slog through before she could take a break.

So, she gritted her teeth and calmed her rapidly beating heart.  
If something bad had happened, they'd let her know.

* * *

Anderson had more than his share of ribbing from the guys. But, it was only fair. When one of them would get hot-and-heavy with a nurse, he'd do his share of teasing, too.

"C'mon, Bob! Tell us! What's she like?" French was practically drooling all over himself as they walked back from the flight line, finished with the mission.

"Yeah, tell us! Is she noisy? What does she like?" Gutterman pressed.

"It's none of your damn business!" Anderson said, removing his flak jacket.

"You've given us the gory details before, Anderson!" French protested. "What makes this broad any different?"

"Because he loves this broad," Pappy jumped from his plane, joining them. "Makes all the difference in the world."

Everyone made kissing and smooching noises as Pappy laughed. It only got worse when Bobby blushed. "Cut it out, guys!"

"Aw, you don't love her, do you, Bobby?" T.J. asked.

"That, too, is none of your business, Wiley. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date." He sauntered towards the showers, whistling to himself.

"Now, don't you go getting jealous on me, T.J. I won't have two of my pilots fighting over some skirt." Pappy took T.J. aside to tell him this.

T.J. sighed. "Pappy, I never had a chance. They got one look at each other and 'boom!'" he slapped his hands together for emphasis. "No more T.J."

"Well, you can't win 'em all, son," Pappy slapped T.J. on the back. "I'll buy you a drink."

* * *

Abby was still bent over her paperwork, scowling, when he entered the front office.

Her hair was falling out of her customary bun in tendrils around her face, and she chewed on her bottom lip, tapping her pencil on her desk, deep in thought.

That wasn't the only time she'd chew on her bottom lip. In fact, he knew that's what she did right before she climaxed, her head thrown back, his hand tangled in her hair . . .

He cleared his throat to get her attention, surprised at how fast his thoughts were carrying him away.

She looked up, and for one moment, an expression of relief crossed her face. "Bobby."

"Abigail," he said, his voice deep with emotion.

They were in each other's arms immediately, his lips crushing hers.

"Let's go to the laundry room," he whispered in her ear. She shivered as he kissed it lightly.

"I can't," she replied breathlessly. "I've got to finish this paperwork."  
"Screw the paperwork. Finish it later." He worked his way down her neck, eyeing the top button of her uniform.

"They'll be no 'later.' We'll do this all night," she said and shoved him lightly away. "Just give me another half hour, OK?"

He pretended to pout. "Fine."

Abby adjusted her uniform and sat back down.

She was done in fifteen. They spent the next hour in the laundry room.


	26. Chapter 26

For the record, I love Sarge. Makes his first appearance here.

* * *

Abby loved to play football. She and her brothers, along with the other boys on whatever base her dad was stationed, would often spend an afternoon earning bloody noses and scraped elbows.

At first, the boys would be wary of playing with a weak little girl. But after coaxing from her brothers, plus a well-timed punch or gouge, they treated her just like any other boy. At the end of the day, she proudly had the scars to prove it.

Interesting to note that grown men would treat her no differently.

"OK, Abby, we hand you the ball, and you go right up the middle. Jerry, French, you cover her. One, two, three, break!" Casey was their captain.

They lined up on the line of scrimmage. "OK, little girl, you're going down!" Bobby, who was on the opposite team, threatened playfully.

Abby winked at him as she got into position. "Promise?"

It proved to be enough of a distraction to break through their line. T.J. tackled her at the five yard line, then helped her up.

The next play, they gave the ball to Jerry, who promptly lost it. It was scooped up by Bobby, and Abby jumped him before he could get very far, and they rolled into the mud, laughing.

Pappy and Sgt. Micklin, the new, highly unlikeable chief mechanic, watched from the sidelines.

Sarge took a puff on his cigar. "Girls playing football. Ha! She belongs in a kitchen with a baby on each arm and one on the way."

Pappy chewed on his own cigar. "I'd like to see you tell _her_ that," he motioned as she tackled T.J. right at the ankles, dragging him to ground, then popped right back up, elbows bloody, but laughing just the same.

Sarge shook his head. "What's this world comin' to?"

"I sort of like it."

Sarge harrumphed around his cigar disapprovingly as they continued to watch. After a moment of silence, he motioned towards the game in full-swing. "You know, Major, Anderson's going to wind up killing himself over that broad. I've seen it before. One day, he's going to be mooning over her while in the skies and some Jap's goin' get the drop on him."

"Don't you think I'd pull him if I thought he would?" Pappy eyed Sarge, gauging his reaction.

Sarge shrugged and turned away. "He's your pilot."

"Damn straight, he's my pilot," Pappy muttered to no one in particular, returning to watching the football game, but not enjoying it as much as he had been.

* * *

Abby was shocked to receive the telegram from her father. He was on Espirito. Right now! And, he had invited her to some general's ball. He'd even sent a dress. Abby rummaged through the box and came up with the black sequined sheath.

Whistling under her breath, she held it up to her. It came a good five inches above her knee, and was low-cut to boot.

What was her father _thinking_?

Probably, that she was still six inches shorter and without boobs.

Originally a little disgruntled about being "summoned," the thought of dressing up bolstered her spirits.

Of course, Arant granted her the pass. Abby always wondered if she'd known her father before, the way the woman was always asking about him.

She was supposed to meet Bobby tonight, just like she had met him every night for the last two weeks. The days they had off, they spent together, as well. She was lulled into complacency by the fact that he took off every morning, but came back unscathed each afternoon.

But, she knew that could change in an instant.

And, she tried not to think about it.

* * *

She brushed off the catcalls and wolf whistles when she tottered into their camp in Maria's four-inch heels, the only dressy black shoes she could find on base.

Her father never thought to send her shoes. Or nylons, for that matter. But, he was just a guy.

Bobby stuck his head out of her tent at all the racket. "What's all the ruckus about?" His eyes brightened when they saw her, and he let out a low whistle. "My, my, my, what have we here?" Despite being in the middle of camp just outside his tent, he gathered her in his arms and nibbled playfully on her neck.

Abby giggled and pushed away. "Stop it! You'll tear my dress. And lord knows, it doesn't have much room left!"

He held her at arms length. "Now, I know you didn't dress up for little ol' me."

She rolled her eyes. "I've been summoned. By my father."

"I thought he was somewhere off the coast of Japan."

"Apparently, he's on Espirito for some conference or other, and he wants me to attend this thing. He even sent me this dress."

Bobby studied it. "If I were a father, I don't think I would want my daughter caught dead in that dress." Someone whistled, and Bobby shot him a dirty look.

"My father still thinks I'm fifteen and built like a stick." She pulled the hem of the dress down a bit. "But, as long as I don't kick my heels up too much, I should be fine."

Another wolf whistle had Bobby cross. He took her arm. "I better escort you to the air strip."

"I think I can manage to find it."

"Yeah, but some of these guys," he shot a threatening look to a group of mechanics who were making obscene noises, "were raised in a barn."

She took his arm, sidling up close to him as they walked. "Jealous?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm jealous! If those hotshot officers don't keep their hands off you, they'll have to answer to me," he muttered. He leaned in closer and whispered in her ear. "Plus, I'd like to rip that dress off you and have my way with you."

Abby felt a shiver down her spine. "I'll take a rain check on that."

"You sure?"

She made a face. "Not really. I'd rather do it now than go to this stupid thing."

He laughed, kissing her once more before she made her way to the tarmac.

Her plane was waiting on her, and she waved at him from the top of the steps before climbing inside, the corporal who was loading the plane giving her behind an appreciative look.

"Hey! Watch it, buddy!" Bobby yelled.

Sheepish at getting caught, the corporal straightened up and went back to his job.

* * *

There was a jeep waiting for her at Espirito, all decked out in admiral stars. Abby rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be escorted to the party.

She hadn't seen her father in almost one year, not since she left Pearl Harbor for the South Pacific. No matter how much he tried to have a heavy hand in their lives, he was still her father. And she still loved him. In her own way. Just like he loved her in his own way.

_It's no wonder I run screaming from any relationships_.

The party was in full swing by the time she arrived. Guards surrounded the building, keeping the riff-raff out, Abby supposed. This shindig was for ranking officers only.

Her father was holding court at the bar when she walked inside. She waited politely until he was finished with his conversation before greeting him.

He gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. "Abby, dear! It's so good to see you."

"You, too, Dad."

He held her at arm's length. "Is that the dress I sent you? It looks a little . . . snug."

She gave him a half-smile. "You seem to only remember me as a spindly teenager, not a grown woman."

"Er . . . right." He took her arm. "I have someone that will be along later that I think you may be glad to see. But, first, let me introduce you to some folks. General Barker! This is my daughter, _Captain_ Abigail Reilly!" He accentuated the "captain."

And so it went. They did get a moment or two to catch up on family. Kevin, the ace in the family, had been rotated home, but was thinking about volunteering for another stint in Germany, despite protests from his longtime girlfriend, Melissa.

Smart girl. Abby certainly hoped he reconsidered.

Johnny was still in the South Pacific. Abby had heard rumors he had developed a drinking problem, but she did not discuss this with her father. Or the reasons she thought were behind it.

They did not mention Jimmy. Abby knew she would probably shed a few tears, and if there was anything her father hated, it was public displays of emotion, especially in front of all the brass present at this party.

Mom was fine, spoiling Jimmy's twins, who were getting so big. Her father even had a picture, which he showed proudly to anyone who would look. His first grandchildren. Going to be pilots someday.

Abby certainly hoped not, and she resented her father for even mentioning it. But, what did she expect? He'd done it to her brothers, so why should her nephews be any different.

She held her tongue. She didn't get to see her father very much, so she wanted to try to make this visit as pleasant as possible.

At it was. At least until her father's 'surprise' guest showed up.

Abby was laughing politely at a joke a three-star general was telling when her father took her by the arm. "It seems my guest is here."

"I thought I was your guest, Dad?" Abby teased. The two drinks she had made her relaxed around her normally stoic father.

He didn't even acknowledge her joke, just sat her at a table towards the back that mysteriously opened up.

And none other than Tony Ginsberg settled across from her, giving her a hesitant smile, his eyes uncertain.

Abby turned to glare at her father, who was trying to sit her in the empty bench across from Tony. "What _are_ you doing?" she hissed.

Her father looked ready for war. "I just want you to talk to him, Abigail. Give him another chance. He's a good man and . . ."

Abby dug in her heels, which was easy, considering how pointy they were. "No, Dad, I will _not_! He made a fool out of me in front of everyone in that bar! And, apparently, he'd been doing it for awhile without my knowledge!" It had come out later that Tony had developed a taste for the ladies and was rarely without one since she'd been gone.

People nearby were glancing around at them, noting Abby's hostile posture.

Her father moved in closer. "Sit down. Don't make a scene."

Tony stood. "Abby, please. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Please, give me another chance."

Abby always hated it when Tony groveled. "I distinctly remember you saying you would never have dated me if it weren't for my father and the help he could give you."

Her father's raised eyebrow gave her confidence. "He didn't tell you that part, did he, Dad?"

Tony continued to whine. "I was angry. That infernal pilot had embarrassed me in front of the entire restaurant . . ."

"You had embarrassed yourself by being extremely affectionate with that red-head, if I remember correctly." Abby resisted the urge to cold cock him again as she got right up in his face, her temper getting the best of her. Again.

Her father was now dragging her away. "Abigail. Let me talk to you outside."

Abby got her legs to going and jerked her arm out of her grip. "Fine. Anything to get away from that idiot back there."

They barged past the token sentries at the door, who were more than a little startled. Abby made sure she was out of earshot before she laid into her father.

"How _dare_ you break that creep back here, especially after you know what he did to me! I wouldn't consider marrying him again if he were the last man on _earth_!"

"Your mother and I just want you to be happy! He's got a steady job, and he did make you happy at one time. Stop being so difficult, and maybe you can get that back!"

Abby could not believe what her father was saying. "Dad, are you _serious_? He slept with more women than I have fingers and toes while we were _engaged_. That doesn't bother you? In the _least_? You mean, you _want_ me to stay with that cheating snake?"

Her stalwart father actually looked uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. "Abby, sometimes, men have needs. And these women . . ."

Abby wanted to put her hands over her ears. "Oh, no, you don't! Don't you tell me that it's fine for men to cheat! Because it's _not_! I can't _believe_ you, Dad! What if I had cheated, huh? Would that be OK? Or, would it make me a slut?"

"Abigail! Such language!"

"You're worried about one little word, and you're sitting here telling me I should accept Tony _and_ his cheating ways! That's insane! Especially when you sit here telling me that Mom is agreeing to all this! I bet you didn't tell her how many women Tony bedded, did you?"

"Of course not. Your mother need not hear such things."

"But, it's OK for me to hear them, right?"

"Abby, you're a grown woman who has put herself in a situation most men would not find themselves in. It's the harsh reality that you have to face. Your mother understands it, did way before we were married, in fact. But, it's just not discussed. Tony would still make a good husband, father and provider."

Abby stood there, staring at her father, her mouth hanging open. "You mean, you have . . . and Mom knew about it . . . and it's _OK_ with her?"

Now her father really did look uncomfortable. "I was away from your mother a lot. Men have these needs . . ."

"Don't tell me about men's needs! I know _plenty_ about their needs! And, you know something Dad? I like myself better than that! I deserve better than Tony, or anyone else who cheats like that, for that matter. And, if I never find someone like that, then fine, I'll live the rest of my life alone."

Her father took a deep breath and tried another tactic. "You've been sheltered all your life, and that's my fault. But, you just don't understand . . ."

Abby whirled back around. "You know something, Dad? I understand _plenty_ about sex. _Plenty_!" She couldn't resist. "Actually, I've been having it everyday for awhile now."  
Her father colored. "_Abigail_!"

"Hey, if you can tell me about your love life, I'll let you in on mine." She was so angry, she wasn't quite realizing what she was saying. "He's a _lieutenant_! I measly, lowlife lieutenant pilot – a _Marine_ pilot - that I have wild, passionate sex with. And you know what? I _enjoy_ it! And, as long as I'm enjoying it, I think I'll keep him around and leave Tony to his cheap little broads! Because, it's Tony's loss! So, if _you_ like Tony so much, _you_ marry him!"

She left her father standing there with his mouth hanging open as she stormed back to the airfield.

* * *

Abby fumed the entire flight back from Espirito. How could her father say those things to her? That she should accept Tony for his ways because she couldn't please him enough, so he has to find someone else – or many other someone elses! – who could!

Her mother might have agreed to this arrangement, but she'd be damned if she would!

She was still irate when she stalked from the plane at Vella La Cava.

Honestly, she had no intention of seeing Bobby tonight, especially after she dragged him into her argument with her father.

But, when she saw the bright lights from the Sheep Pen, she changed her mind.

She could use a drink.

She stomped inside and towards the bar, helping herself to a rather liberal slug of scotch and throwing it back. She poured herself another.

"You gonna drink that whole bottle there, hon?" Gutterman asked.

She pointed her finger at him. "Watch it, bud," she said before she threw the second one back.

"Since you're in my bar, I reckon I can say what I like," Gutterman argued.

Abby seriously thought about throwing her glass at him. Since not very many were paying them any attention, it might just go unnoticed.

Bobby had been in the middle of a rather boring hand of poker before she barged in. He was glad for the diversion. He was losing anyway.

Plus, they were going to be digging broken glass out of Gutterman's hide if he didn't intervene. He stood up and made his way to her.

Boy, was she mad.

It didn't stop him from taking the glass out of her one hand and the bottle out of the other, making sure he set them out of her reach. "I take it things didn't go well."

"He had _Tony_ there! He wanted me to get re-_engaged_ to the creep! Can you believe that? My _own_ _father_!"

Bobby leaned over the bar and reached for a beer. "You didn't hit him did you?"

That question threw her off. "Who? Tony or my father?"

"Either one!"

"No. But, I should have," she scowled. "You know what else my dad told me?"

"What?" Bobby was trying not to notice how sexy she looked when she was angry, her face flushed, eyes snapping.

Abby didn't seem to notice the track his thoughts were taking. "He told me that he's cheated on my mother for years, and my mother knew about it _and_ is OK with it because men have needs, and she knew she couldn't meet them."

By now, most everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen. "Don't any of you say he's right, either, or you'll answer to me!" she addressed the men in the room.

"Sounds like to me it's just an excuse," Jerry said, shrugging and returning to his poker game.

"Well, that's what I told him, too."

"Then, what happened?" Bobby eyed the way the hem of her dress was riding up her leg.

"He tried to tell me I was sheltered and didn't understand the ways of men or some such nonsense like that."

"And?" He took a swig from his beer.

She made a face. "I sort of . . . well, brought you up. And told him I understood men just fine, thank you very much."  
Bobby almost choked. "You told your father – your _admiral_ father – that you and I were . . . good _Lord_, Abby! You trying to get me castrated or something?"

"Oh, he won't do anything. He can't, remember? I'm an adult, rather he likes it or not!" She took his beer from his hand and took a swig herself.

Pappy walked up to Bobby and elbowed him in the ribs. "I'd watch your back if I were you, stud. Those admiral fathers can be really territorial when they wanna be."

Bobby decided not to worry. "Abby's right. What can he do? Hell, I'm not even in the Navy!"

Pappy didn't look convinced before he worked his way back across the crowded room. "You just keep telling yourself that."

Abby had calmed down some now that she was away from all that nonsense her father had presented her with. She walked out from around the bar and climbed carefully onto a barstool next to Bobby, glad when he leaned towards her familiarly. They watched French and T.J. argue over the last of the popcorn on the other side of the room for a moment.

"Didn't mean to barge in here like that," Abby said, chuckling when neither won the argument when the popcorn bowl fell to the floor, scattering kernels everywhere.

"Glad you did. I was getting killed in that poker game. You see that pile of money Casey has? Well, that used to be mine." He brushed his fingers absently across her neck. "I just hate you had such a bad night. And, in such a sexy dress, too." He grinned down at her.

Abby smiled back coyly and leaned in closer, so no one could hear. She had some frustration to work off, and had just thought of a good way to do it! "If I remember correctly, you promised me you'd rip this dress off me the next chance you got."

"So, I did, didn't I?" He pulled her a little closer.

"Well? I find myself free for the rest of the evening. Want to take a walk on the beach?"

He sat his empty bottle on the bar with a thunk and took her hand, practically dragging her from the barstool. "I thought you'd never ask!"


	27. Chapter 27

Sarge didn't like to be bossed around. Sure, he was a lowly sergeant, but that was only because he couldn't keep his fists to himself when some smart-mouth was around. As a result, he was striped for it.

This Navy admiral was about all he could take, yelling and cussing at his men to get him a jeep and tell him where the commanding officer is and all that jazz.

Now, Sarge didn't condone women in the military, even as nurses. And, he didn't much care for hotshot pilots.

But, Captain Reilly had proved herself to him more than once by helping his men repair planes when help was needed. And, he may not like Lieutenant Anderson, along with the rest of the bunch, but they were all Marines, and Marines needed to stick together against this Navy bunch of turds.

With his cigar tightly between his teeth, he found the first jeep he could and headed to the hospital.

* * *

"My father is _here_? Great! Just great!" Abby slammed the clipboard down with a bang.

"I don't thing I'd drive all the way out here to lie to you, Captain. But, I think you may wanna get to camp in a hurry. He was cussin' and swearin', and he mentioned your lieutenant by name while he was cussin' and swearin'."

Abby rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was Sunday, and her turn to work. She would rather have been holed up with Bobby somewhere having him knock her socks off instead. But, now, she wished she'd kept her wishes to herself.

Working was better than having to deal with her angry father.

After hustling Maria out of bed and sitting her in the ward to at least look like she was taking care of things, Abby followed Sarge out the door, ready for battle.

* * *

Admiral Reilly didn't like the looks of the place. The planes were held together by spit and beer cans, and the tents didn't look much better.

Didn't he raise his daughter to have better _taste_ than . . . then these _Marines_?

After bellowing at a couple of non-coms, scaring the ever-loving hell out of them for kicks, his party found his way to the tent he was looking for.

Protocol suggested that he speak with the commander of this outfit before he conversed with one of his men. But, Major Greg Boyington's file was even thicker than this Anderson kid's. Plus, this was personal. None of Boyington's business.

He didn't realize one of the non-coms he bellowed at was actually Captain Jim Gutterman.

Gutterman may not care too much for Abby's temper, probably because it matched his own, but he wouldn't have his camp walked all over by a Navy officer of any rank, size or shape.

Gutterman went straight to Pappy's tent as Admiral Reilly barged into Anderson's.

* * *

Since it was Sunday, Bobby was lounging around in the tent he shared with French. Both men were reading letters and catching up on the news from home, occasionally sharing a funny anecdote or two. Once the letters were completed, it was time to catch up on some shut-eye.

"Would you stop picking your toenails, French? It sounds like cats walking on glass in here."

French threw a dirty towel at Anderson, and it landed on his face. Anderson swatted it off annoyingly.

"Seems to me if you'd quit spending so much time with your captain, you might be getting enough sleep."

"Shut up, Don."  
Don didn't shut up. "She must be working today. If she wasn't, I wouldn't see you until the cows come home. She must be some kinda lay . . ."

"I'm warning you, Don. You better shut up."

"What'll you do? Throttle me? Or better yet, how 'bout having your woman do it for you? Seems she does a better job."

Anderson jumped up. "That's _it_!"

Before he could charge, a Navy uniform popped into their tent. "Ten-hut!"

"What the hell . . ." French rose and quickly came to attention when the Admiral stars came into view.

"Which one of you is Lieutenant Robert Anderson?" the man growled, looking none-too-pleased when he looked at French.

French pointed across the room. "He is. Sir." For a second, he thought this raging bull of an admiral was after him.

"Gee, thanks, French." The moment Anderson spotted the naval uniform, he knew he was sunk. No pun intended.

"What can I do for you, Admiral?"

Abby's father set him with an angry stare.

Hey, at least he knew who she got it from!

The admiral tossed a thick pile of papers onto Anderson's cluttered bunk. "This is your file, Lieutenant. I've spent most of the night reading it over, along with the other so-called Black Sheep on this island."

Anderson eyed the file suspiciously, curious as to what actually made it in there and what Pappy managed to keep out of it.

"I've also reviewed the file on this squadron, so thoughtfully provided by Colonel Lard . . ."  
French rolled his eyes, just out of sight.

" . . . and it is of my opinion that the lot of you should be grounded and court-martialed. You wouldn't have made it one day under my command!"

"I'm sorry, Admiral, but are you criticizing my boys?" Pappy, arms crossed, was standing just outside the tent. "Because, I'd love to discuss it with you."

"Boyington, stay out of this," Admiral Reilly warned, snatching the file up and barging through the tent flap to stand toe-to-toe with the major, who was by now surrounded by the rest of the Black Sheep.

"Bobby, if you know what's good for you, you'll clear outta this tent, too. That way, you can run in any direction to get away from him," French muttered.

"I would hope it wouldn't come to that," Bobby replied, following his bunk mate outside.

The arrival of a jeep skidding to a stop halted all conversation momentarily. Abby, still wearing her nurses' white, jumped out, leaving Sarge in the driver's seat, chewing on his cigar. "Dad! What are you _doing_?"

She positioned herself between her father and Bobby.

"This is none of your concern, Abigail. This is man talk." He gave her an equally harsh look.

"I believe if you come to where I am stationed and start bullying people around because of me, then it _is_ my business." She crossed her arms defiantly across her chest.

Her father eyed her. "I did some research last night and came across the name of the young man you'd taken up with, who, coincidentally, is the same lieutenant that hit Tony in the restaurant that night."

"Wait a minute. I thought you took care of that," Pappy looked at Abby.

She narrowed her eyes. "I did. All charges were dropped."

"Major Lard filled me in," the admiral chipped in. "And, after looking into his file, I've discovered that you've taken up with one of the worst examples of military protocol in history!"

"Wait a second, Admiral! Lieutenant Anderson has proved to be a highly skilled and competent pilot, and I wouldn't trade him for a whole fleet of your Navy boys!" Pappy argued.

Bobby looked rather proud of himself. "Thanks, Pappy."

"Don't mention it. And don't get a big head, either."

"Right."

Abby's father turned right back around to face Bobby and his daughter, who was still glaring at him defiantly. Some of the fight left him. "Where did I go wrong, girl? You deserve better."

"You're telling me that I deserve some lying, cheating son of a bitch like Tony over a man who loves me for who I am and not for who my father is?"

Bobby put his hand on her back, and she was suddenly glad he was there.

Her father switched his gaze from his daughter to Bobby. "Do you actually think you deserve her?"

Abby could feel Bobby shift behind her. "No. I don't."

That seemed to take some more of the air out of Admiral Reilly's sails.

Bobby continued. "I could never work hard enough or do anything good enough to deserve her. I might make her angry, and we might butt heads at times, but you have my word. I'll never treat her like Tony would." He met the admiral's gaze head-on.

Sarge rolled his eyes. "I hate this mushy shit." Turning the engine over, he roared back to the airstrip.

Reilly knew he was outnumbered, but he still had fight left in him. "I think you're making a big mistake, Abigail."

Her jaw was set in an eerily similar way. "I don't. But, it's my mistake to make, either way."

"Fine." He tucked Bobby's file underneath his arm. "I better get back to Esprito then. I'll send your mother your love."

The entire camp watched him and his entourage climb into their jeep and roar back to the airfield.

When he was gone, Abby leaned backwards into Bobby, glad when he put his hands on her shoulders and started rubbing some of the tension away.

"I am so sorry about all of that. Especially you, Major. There was no sense in dragging my personal life into your camp like that, but when Dad gets set on something," she shrugged instead of finishing the sentence.

Pappy grinned. "At least we know you get it honest."

The crowd dispersed, leaving Abby and Bobby standing there. "You alright?" he asked.

"I can't believe he went through your file like that."

"Me neither. I've been trying to figure out what exactly was in there." He thought for a minute. "You know, I bet you don't even have a file."

"Are you saying I'm a goody-two-shoes?"

"Well . . . aren't you?"

"If I keep hanging out with the lot of you, I'm sure I'll have one just as thick as yours."


	28. Chapter 28

It was bound to happen.

They lost three pilots and five Corsairs in a week. Abby didn't know the three men very well, but Jerry's was one of the planes that was lost. Jerry wasn't fished out of the ocean for sixteen hours.

The Black Sheep weren't taking it very well. And, all it did was reinforce Abby's fears for Bobby, fears that were in the back of her mind, but she had managed through a sheer force of will to ignore.

One stormy afternoon, she could ignore it no longer.

This time, it wasn't T.J. that came with Boyington, but Gutterman.

Somehow, Abby had mentally prepared herself for this moment. She knew the whole time she was avoiding the issue that this day would come. And when the two men stood outside the hospital ward, faces pensive, Abby knew this was it.

"What happened?" she managed to croak. She bit her tongue so hard, she tasted blood to keep from weeping.

"Zekes swarmed us off the coast of a small island chain just south of here. Shot him down over open water. Jim saw him parachute out and left the Navy Coast Guard with the coordinates."

Jim nodded once to verify what Boyington had said.

Abby almost leaned against the door with relief, although it was short-lived. Sure, he was alive. But, the Navy had to get to him first.

"Uh . . . thanks. For letting me know."

"He's tough. They'll fish him out," Gutterman added.

Abby shot him a grateful look. "Right. Let me know . . . you know . . . if you hear anything."

They both nodded in unison.

When she turned to go back inside, Pappy shook his head. "You know something, Jim?"

"What's that?"

"I'd much rather write 'em a letter than look 'em in the eye."

* * *

Abby returned to work, although she couldn't pay much attention to it. She kept thinking about Bobby floating somewhere in the ocean. The enemy could pick him up. Or sharks. Always sharks. What about if he were injured? He wouldn't last long out in the open like that, would he?

Abby didn't realize it, but she sat at the desk, her unfinished paperwork scattered about, her hands gripping her pencil, for a long time.

* * *

After one day with no word, Abby was a basket case. She couldn't concentrate on her work, no matter how hard she tried. But, she wished she could. At least work would take her mind off what was going on. Any little thing would set her off, and the other nurses and patients didn't know what to do with her.

Hell, Abby didn't know what to do with herself!

Her friends tip-toed around her, not sure of what to say. It seemed a little preliminary for 'I'm sorry for your loss,' but at this point, it was all that could be said.

And in the middle of it all, Arant had the gall to offer her a position on Esprito – head nurse of the hospital on base. It was much, much larger than this one, and through Abby's grief, she wondered if it was her father's way of getting her away from Vella La Cava.

The strange thing was, when she joined the Navy, it was all she ever wanted – to have her own hospital to run.

Now, it wasn't even high on her list of concerns.

But, later, it registered why Arant did it.

She thought Bobby wasn't coming back.

It was a way to get her off the island and away from the ghosts that would surely haunt her.

Abby became angry. At herself mainly. She had a wall built around herself to protect her from these sorts of things, and Bobby had coaxed her away from it.

And now, where did that leave her?

Any relief she originally felt that someone had seen him chute from the plane was long gone by now. He was probably fish food, and she was sitting here, not knowing what happened to him. Not knowing if she'd _ever_ know what happened to him.

She had screwed over her own self. If she had listened to her mind instead of her heart, she'd still be sitting here working hard, probably excited at the possibility of her own hospital to run. Bobby's MIA status wouldn't even be a blip on her radar.

But, that's not how it was. Instead, she was sitting on her bed, hugging her pillow to her chest in her dark room, crying for a man she loved against all her better judgment.

The longer time went with no word, the worse it seemed. At first, she wanted someone to burst in there and tell her that he was back – right as rain. But, now that seemed like a pipe dream.

And, if he did make it back, could she throw herself blindly into their relationship like before? She needed him, physically and emotionally. He could make her laugh when she didn't want to and make her feel beautiful, even on her worst days.

Deep down inside, she always wondered if she actually needed him more than he needed her. That made her way too . . . vulnerable.

Abby needed to talk to him about this decision. Even if he were here and alive, should she let that get in the way of her dream of running a hospital herself?

But, could she live without him?

Right now, it looked like that choice was made for her.

By the time the sun dawned on the second day he was missing, she'd made up her mind. She was dressed and at Arant's door by the time the major was in her office.

* * *

Abby was numb as she started her rounds. Arant had radioed Espirito that she'd accepted the position, then shook her hand, congratulating her on her new position. And new rank. She and Arant were now equals.

Normally, Abby would not have tried to make such an important decision under such emotional stress.

Granted, she probably had never been under such emotional duress. Before Bobby, she was able to keep a strong handle on her feelings.

Now, she was a nervous wreck, trying to throw her things together, while mourning Bobby.

It had been two full days with no word from the Navy. While this was not unusual, it also didn't bode well for the missing pilot.

Abby wondered when his MIA status would change to deceased. What sort of time limit did the military put on those things?

Starting now, Abby knew she had to shove those thoughts aside. He was gone. Her time with him was amazing, and she knew she would probably never connect like that with another person again.

She didn't want to. It hurt too much to lose them.

By the end of the day, she had managed to pack her things. She was leaving on the first flight out of there the next morning. Whether she heard officially that Bobby was gone or not.

* * *

They found out fifteen minutes before he was supposed to arrive that he was alive.

When T.J. radioed the hospital to tell her he'd been marooned on a little island for two days, she put her head in her hands and wept tears of relief.

He was alive!

And, he didn't know she was leaving!

Abby always thought things through, but this angle had popped up out of nowhere. All sense told her he was not coming back, and she'd made the decision as such.

But, she couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't pretend she wasn't worried about him. It was for the best.

Now, she had to convince him of that. And herself.

* * *

Bobby was practically tackled by the rest of the squadron when he climbed out of the Navy rescue plane. They had provided him a shower, food and clean clothes, but he declined medical attention. All he had was a bad sunburn. And, all he needed was Abby. He knew she was probably mad as hell at him, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her. He'd missed her something fierce while he was stuck on that damn island, and now that he'd had some time to think and make some decisions, he wanted to talk to her. See what she thought.

But, she wasn't there.

They saw him looking around, and all laughter and joking died. They didn't look at each other, just looked all around him, but mostly at the ground.

He smiled hesitantly. "What's the matter? You look like you're trying to tell me something."

T.J. was looking at his feet, pushing at a rock with his toe when Anderson spotted him.

"Well, does she know?"

"Yeah, she knows," T.J. mumbled.

Anderson got a bad feeling about this. "I think . . . I better get to the hospital."

T.J. stopped him before he turned to go. "She's leaving, Bobby. She accepted a position on Espirito as head nurse. And a promotion."

Bobby stared at him incredulously for a moment. "She's leaving? But . . . but . . . she didn't even _tell_ me! Don't you think I should have known about this?"

"She thought you were dead. Hell, we _all_ thought you were. You can't commune with the dead," Gutterman added.

"This is . . . crazy!" Bobby started to rush off. "I've got to find her and stop her."

"You're not going to stop me." Abby actually sounded like she meant it.

* * *

Abby was late, but she wanted to try to catch him after the initial celebration. When she drove up and saw him, her first instinct was to run and bury herself in his arms. After all he put her through, her heart was still going to give her away.

But, they broke the news before she could. Good. Made it a little easier on her.

* * *

Although he was still in shock, just the sight of her put his heart at ease a bit. Despite the audience, he closed the distance between them and gathered her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers.

She didn't fight him. A good sign. Just wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.

What he didn't know was she was allowing herself one last luxury before she gave him up entirely.

But, it had to end eventually. This only made it worse.

Reluctantly, Abby pushed herself away from him. He was looking at her with questioning eyes.

"I can't believe you're alive," she whispered. "We all thought . . ."

He knew what they thought. Hell, he thought the Navy was never going to find him, either. "I think the guys are playing a trick on me. They told me – you're leaving?" His voice had a pleading tone. It couldn't be true. Could it?

Abby extracted herself from his arms and wouldn't look at him. "It's what I've always wanted, Bobby. You know that."

"I know, but . . . I thought . . . maybe you'd run it by me first." He ran his hand through his hair.

"I thought you were dead. I couldn't stay on this godforsaken island without you. Everything would have reminded me of _you_!" Her voice was raw with emotion and unshed tears.

He was trying to work it out in his mind. "It is what you've wanted, and I respect that. I can still see you whenever I get a chance, and you can come here . . ." His voice trailed off when he saw the sad expression on her face. "What?" he growled, resisting the urge to grab her arms and shake her.

A tear fell out of her eye, and she swiped at it annoyingly. "I've mourned you twice already. . ."

"But, I'm alive!"

"I know that," she said patiently through her tears. "And, believe me, I wouldn't have it any other way. But, one day, you're not going to be so lucky."

He stared at her. "So, that's it? It's over. No more us. You're just going to toss us away like yesterday's news?" His voice rose in desperation.

"I have to," she whispered.

"_Have_ to? Are you _crazy_?" he was ranting big-time, but he couldn't help it. He was desperately trying to come up with a reason for her to change her mind. "I'll . . . I'll quit. I swear I will."

Abby shook her head. "No! You'll regret it, and you'll blame me for the rest of your life! It just wasn't meant to be. I told you from the beginning that I knew better than to get involved with you, and I went against my own good judgment."

"Good judgment? So, now I'm a bad decision that you're trying to _correct_?" Abby's tears only infuriated him further. "If this is such a good decision, why're you crying? Shouldn't it be easier than this?"

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding within her chest. "I'm sorry, Bobby. It's the right thing." She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm.

"I'll tell you what the right thing to do is," he yelled. "You can get off that high horse of yours and open yourself up to some real emotions! People die, Abby. They get sick and they die, or they get killed. It's a fact! You can't avoid it by hiding behind your paperwork in your hospital!" He was babbling, but he couldn't help it.

She snatched her arm out of his grasp. "I can't do it, Bobby! I _can't_! I'm not strong enough to watch you go up in that hunk of junk everyday and know in my heart the odds are against you. I'm just not _strong_ _enough_!" She matched him yell-for-yell.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other.

"When do you leave?" he asked, his voice much quieter.

"Tomorrow. 0700."

He rubbed his face with his hands. "So, this is it?"

Abby nodded once, biting the inside of her lip to keep from bursting into tears and going back on everything she said she was going to do.

"Tell me something, Abigail. I won't fight this if you tell me one thing. Tell me you don't love me. Stand there and look me in the eye and tell me that." His dark eyes pled with hers.

Abby had every intention of doing that, if it would ensure he would not try to change her already made up mind. But, the way he was looking at her, she could feel her resolve eroding around her. "I . . ." She clamped her mouth shut.

He stared at her, waiting.

"Goodbye, Bobby," she whispered very faintly before turning to go.

All he could do was watch her as she walked across the tarmac, the sun glaring blindly off the surface.

Bobby had forgotten they had an audience until Casey came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright, man?"

Bobby shrugged his hand off, and Casey backed away. "Hell, _no_, I'm not alright! She just gives up. Just like that!" Bobby knew he had no right to be angry at any of them, but they were there. "And I was this close to asking her to . . ." He stopped. No use letting these guys know how close he was to making a total fool of himself. "Never mind. Just . . .just leave me alone for awhile."

They watched him storm towards camp.

Sarge, his ever-present cigar in his mouth, removed it, thumping ash on the ground. "Love is a shit. Let that be a lesson to the lot of ya." He shrugged and returned to rebuilding his engine, trying to get another plane up and running for Anderson. The show must go on, no matter if his heart was broken or not.

* * *

The nurses threw her a farewell party, and Abby went along with it, although she was still in a daze from what had just transpired.

But, it really was for the best. She didn't lie when she told him that. She could get control of her life once again, get her focus back. Bobby had made things so complicated, and she longed for the simplicity she had before he so rudely came into her life.

Abby clung to that thought desperately. She didn't need him to be happy. She was content before he came along, and she could be that way again. She didn't need the worry and fears for his safety to interfere with her life any longer.

But, she was more than glad that he was alive. She was downright ecstatic! It didn't matter that she couldn't have him, at least he was alive!

She still clung to those thoughts as she stood on the tarmac, watching the plane that would take her away from this taxiing down the runway, silver wings shining in the morning sun. Anxiously, she reminded herself that she was making the right decision for her as she saw the squadron suited up for the day, making their way to their planes.

He was standing there. Watching her.

Why did he have to do that do her?

She turned away. She didn't want to see him. It would only make this harder, make her promises to herself seem to hollow.

When she climbed up the stairs, returning a salute from a sergeant loading the plane, she didn't look back.

* * *

Bobby watched her as she stood there, waiting on the plane doors to open. Her back was ramrod straight, and she had one satchel in her hand, grasping it for dear life. He knew it held her books. She didn't trust the military with them.

He had gotten so drunk last night, he was surprised Pappy was even letting him fly this morning. His head pounded as the sunlight hit his eyes, and he tried to shake it off.

Once, he thought she turned to look at him as she hesitated at the bottom of the steps.

His heart leapt. She was going to change her mind!

But, all she did was give him one sad glance. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and headed up the ramp, the little sergeant in tow.

Bobby stood there and watched the plane slowly make its way to the runway and roar down it, taking to the air. He watched it until it was just a speck in the distance.

Then, she was gone. Out of his bed. Out of his life.

But, not out of his heart.


	29. Chapter 29

Abby threw herself into her hospital. The previous head nurse had done a good job, and except for a few minor changes, she left the regular routine of the girls alone. But, there were always problems to solve and issues to sort out, as well as wounded to tend to.

It was a much more extensive job than she could imagine, and her respect for Major Arant went up a notch. Although she had a similar job at home, when it was combined with all the military rules and regulations, it was almost a full time job just to keep up with the endless paper trails.

She kept her distance from the nurses. She was their superior officer, not their best friend. And, although they were all about the same age, she felt so much older.

As the days went by in a whirl of paperwork and orders, Abby had to come to the conclusion that she missed him. Terribly. So much sometimes, that when she woke in the middle of the night and reached for him, only finding the cold sheets at her fingertips, she buried her face in her pillow and wept, allowing herself the luxury of a moment of tears.

But, tears wouldn't change the facts. He was still a pilot, and when his number was up, she didn't want to be anywhere near him. It was easier to let him go now when he was alive then try to mourn him when he was gone.

Wasn't it?

* * *

For some reason, the Japanese took it upon themselves one afternoon to throw every piece of hardware in the area at Espirito. The air raid sirens wailed constantly as the low rumble of their planes flying overhead was drowned out by the whistling of their bombs hurtling towards them.

Abby had never seen anything like it. While trying to keep her nurses and her patients calm in the bomb shelter at the hospital, it was easy to ignore her own fear.

But, as the ground shook and grit floated to the floor, she wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream. Anything to drown out the terrified moans of those huddled in the basement with her.

* * *

"T.J, keep, trying, dammit!" Anderson had almost worn a rut in the floor of the tent that housed the radio equipment.

"Bobby, I keep trying, but no one's answering! I imagine they're trying to clean up the mess those Japanese bombers made!" But, T.J. kept trying to raise someone on Espirito as Bobby paced the floor.

It had been a couple of weeks since Abby left, and they all hoped like hell Bobby would get over it.

But, he hadn't. If anything, he only got worse. He stayed to himself and drank. If anyone dared approach him, he waved them off. Even French had run out of ideas.

They all went to Pappy for advice on what to do, but Pappy told them to leave him alone. He'd get over it in time. And, as long as he was able to fly missions and do a good job, there wasn't much he could do, anyway.

And if anything, Bobby was flying his missions and doing a good job. He was one away from making ace, but when they tried to talk to him about it, he was just as indifferent to it as anything.

It hurt them to see their friend suffering, but there wasn't anything they could do.

When they received the news of serious damage on Espirito, Bobby had demanded they call and see if the hospital had been hit. And, that's what T.J. had been trying to do for an hour. This was the most animated they had seen Bobby in awhile, even though it seemed a little irrational.

Finally, he got an answer. "214, this is Espirito. We're a little tied up here, but what seems to be the problem?"

T.J. motioned towards Bobby frantically as he replied. "Espirito, we know you're busy, but we needed to know if the hospital sustained any damage."

"Sure thing. Let me check."

There was only the hum of static on the line as they waited.

Bobby thought he was going to be sick as he crouched next to T.J. He craved a drink. He knew he was trying to bury his troubles in a bottle, but it was all he had. It helped him to forget. And forgetting was a good thing. So what, if he needed a little assistance doing it?

"214, this is Espirito. No damage at the hospital, although it's plenty busy now. That all you need?"

T.J. grinned at Bobby, but all Bobby could do was stare at his shaking hands as he crouched on the floor. T.J.'s grin faded. "That's it, Espirito. Thanks."

"Over and out."

T.J. set the headset aside, watching his friend.

Bobby wanted to believe it. He truly did. But, fear was taking hold of him. She might have left him, but he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her, if she were on the next island or in the next hemisphere.

He jumped up. "What if she wasn't at the hospital? What if she was somewhere else when this started? Somewhere the Japanese bombed? T.J., you've got to call them back! Ask for a list of the injured or something!"

"Bobby, I just spent an hour getting them the first time! Why don't you give it a little while and . . ."

"No, goddammit, I won't! She could be dying out there. Or dead already." The thought made him pale considerably. "You get back on that radio, T.J., right now!"

"T.J., if you touch that radio again, I'll have you striped." Pappy strolled inside, Meatball at his heels. He knew about Anderson's tirade and hoped when he got the information he wanted, he'd calm down enough for someone to talk some sense into him.

Apparently not.

Anderson stared at him incredulously. "What? Are you saying that . . ."

"I'm saying that all radio communication with Espirito is to be put on hold unless it's an absolute emergency." Pappy's voice was even, calm.

Bobby ran and hand over his face. "By whose orders?"

"Mine. You want to try to buck it, go ahead. But, I have a fist with your name on it."

Anderson stared at his commanding officer before brushing by him. "I'll find another way."

T.J. shrugged from his seat beside the radio. "At least he's worked up about something."

"I'd have preferred it was something else," Pappy muttered.

He spotted Anderson racing across the compound, half-dressed in his flight gear.

"Son of a bitch, he _is_ crazy!" Pappy caught him as he was climbing into his plane. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Lieutenant?"

Bobby climbed inside the cockpit. "Going to Espirito. I'm going to find her, and if those Japs hurt her, I'll . . . I'll . . ."

Pappy crossed his arms as he stood on the ground. "Just what will you do, Bobby? Take the entire fleet on yourself?"

"If it's what I have to do."

"Anderson, she _left_ you! She's gone. She's not your concern. What kind of fool are you going to feel like when she's fine and dandy, working her little tail off in that hospital? Especially after I write you up for insubordination and leaving with military equipment without permission."

Bobby let that sink in and stood up. "But, what if she's _not_? I don't know what happened to her, Pappy. I've got to know what happened to her!"

Pappy studied his pilot for a moment. "Get down here."

"But . . ."

"_Now_!"

Bobby rolled his eyes, but obediently climbed to the ground.

"Now, I want you to think about something, Lieutenant. You've been moping around here for days, not understanding why she left. Now, the shoe seems to be on the other foot."

"Huh?"

"It seems to me that you don't know what happened to her. You don't know if she's dead or alive. It's rough, isn't it? Not knowing? Wondering if she's hurt or even dead, isn't it? Maybe you have an idea of what she went through each time you got yourself shot down out there."

Bobby stared at him for a moment before turning and barging away, tossing his flight gear to the ground in frustration.

* * *

As much as Bobby didn't want to admit it, Pappy was right. It did stink not knowing.

_No wonder she left me._

He took another swig of his beer, trying to focus on the conversation flowing about him. For the first time since she'd left, he'd showed up at the Sheep Pen for some actual fellowship with his buddies. And he tried to pay attention. He really did.

But, his ever-present worry for Abby, along with Pappy's words, kept his mind occupied.

He almost jumped out of the chair when someone slapped him on the back.

It was Pappy.

And he looked pleased with himself.

He leaned in close, so the others would have to strain to here. "I made some calls. She's alright. Not a scratch on her."

Just hearing those words made the anxiety of the last few hours fade away.

She was going to be alright after all.

With or without him.

"Thanks, Pappy."

Pappy patted him on the shoulder. "No problem. Now, who wants to give me all their money in a friendly game of poker?"

Bobby even stuck around to play a few hands, surprising even himself.

* * *

Larry Casey wasn't one to butt in when it was none of his business. But, he had watched Anderson since Abby was gone.

The man was a wreck. A complete and total wreck.

The only place he seemed to be himself was in the cockpit of his Corsair. He got his fifth kill confirmed and some "Stars-and-Stripes" reporter was interviewing him now. Although, he honestly seemed to care less about the whole deal.

And, truth be told, he liked Abby. Sure, she scared the shit out of him most of the time with her take-charge attitude and smart-ass mouth. He admired her, even, for standing up for them and herself when the Japanese took over the island. She hadn't fallen to pieces like he thought most women would do when faced with such a situation.

But, the way she flaked out on Bobby really pissed him off.

The first R&R he got, he headed to Espirito, telling no one what he was up to.

* * *

He wondered if she would even know his name. They didn't have much interaction when she was on Vella La Cava, and he was usually too intimidated to hold much of a conversation with her.

But, he finally tracked her down at the Officer's Club, having dinner with a doctor from the hospital.

He was delighted when her eyes lit up when he approached her table as they were deep in conversation. "Larry Casey! What a surprise!" She stood up and made introductions, the doctor giving him a perfunctory nod and annoyed look.

Oh, crap, he'd bumbled into something. "I . . . I just wanted to stop by to see you. I didn't mean to interrupt?" He started to edge away.

"Oh, no, Casey, you didn't interrupt at all. This is just hospital business. Let me finish up here, and I'll meet you outside."

Judging from the look on the doctor's face, it was more than just 'hospital business,' but it seemed Abby was unaware of the admiration in the doctor's eyes.

Maybe he'd gotten here just in time.

Abby met him in the lobby, chattering away. "It's so good to see a friendly face around here! So, tell me, how are things going?" And, it really was. She found it hard to connect to anyone on this island. Everything was so . . . so military! A friend softened her rough edges, even if just for a bit.

They wandered down towards the beach as they chatted, the roar of the surf pounding the shore a welcome relief from the everyday military clatter of planes and jeeps.

And, he found that Abby really wasn't as scary as he thought. He even told her so after they talked for an hour. "You know, you always scared me a bit."

"Me? Scared you? Don't be silly."

"Honestly, you did! You're so tough and feisty, I didn't quite know how to take you, I guess. Especially after you broke up that fight with me and Jerry."

Abby looked at the sand as they sauntered along, her shoes in her hand. "Appearances can be deceiving, Larry. I'm not as . . . as tough as I seem. I used to think I was, but now . . ." She shrugged.  
They walked in silence for a moment.

Casey had been dancing around the subject, avoiding speaking about him. So, he took a deep breath and plunged right in. "You know, Bobby made ace."

"I know. I read it in 'Stars and Stripes.'" She'd even cut out the article, complete with his picture, and saved it, but she wasn't about to tell Casey that. She wasn't going to tell him that she checked the injured and killed-in-action lists daily for any of their names, either. She'd have to give it up in time, she knew that, but for now, it kept her connected to him.

"He misses you." Casey wasn't sure how to say it, but he knew it had to be said. "He's taking it pretty hard." He braced himself for her reaction.

Abby felt her smile falter. "I miss him, too, Larry."

Casey stopped walking, so Abby did, too. "Why don't you go see him?"

"It doesn't work like that, Larry."

"Why? Because your pride won't let it?"

He saw the spark of anger in her eyes and wondered if he'd gone too far. He resisted the urge to take a step back.

She started walking again, and he had to rush to catch up. "I don't owe you an explanation, but I'll give you one, anyway. I left him, Larry. I have no right to torture him, or me for that matter, with keeping in touch."

"When we heard about the bombings here, he panicked. Went half-crazy. Made T.J. call for an hour to see if the hospital had been hit."

Abby stopped. "He did?"

"Yeah, and when he found out it wasn't, he was still upset because you might not have been in the hospital, and he was going to fly out here and find you."

"Did he? Fly out here?" She found it hard to believe he'd come this far and not contact her. But, then could she blame him?

Casey shook his head. "Pappy stopped him. I don't know what was said, but it was a lot of yelling." He shrugged. "You know Pappy."

They started walking again. "Can I ask you something else, Abby?"

"As long as it doesn't involve my personal life."

"It sorta does."

She didn't answer for a bit, so he took to mean she approved. "You left Bobby because he's a pilot. Right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Where're you going with this, Casey?"

"Just answer me. Right?"

"Fine. Right."

"So, now you're not together. He's still a pilot, still flying the same missions he would have been flying if you were still on Vella La Cava, right?"

"Right," she answered, a little warily.

He fixed his gaze on her. "So, if he gets killed tomorrow, will it make it any easier, now that you're not together? Or will it hurt just as bad as it would have if you were still together?" He looked a little smug at his reasoning.

Abby stopped and stared at him. Several thoughts floated to the surface in her brain, but none of them were plausible arguments to his logic.

"I just think you're making yourself more miserable than you need to be. You love him. He loves you. Enjoy that. Cling to it. Fight for it. Because if he gets killed, I think you'll wish you had." He tipped his hat at her. "Excuse me, Abby, but I've got to get back to La Cava."

Abby just stared at him as she watched him go, leaving her alone on the beach.


	30. Chapter 30

Bobby wanted to ask Casey if he saw her. If she asked about him. Was she happy?

But, he didn't. He knew, by now, it didn't matter. She had chosen her path, and it did not include him. Thanks to Pappy, he could emphasize with her, but he still wouldn't have given up what they had if he were in her shoes.

It was an open wound that would take awhile to heal. If it ever would. And the scar would always be with him.

* * *

Abby always liked Casey, but now that she'd had time to mull over his words, she would have gladly throttled him.

He'd waltzed into her carefully pieced together life and tossed it around like a child with a puzzle.

Always one to make up her mind and stick to it, Abby didn't know what she wanted now.

Well, she actually _knew_ what she wanted, but didn't know until Casey came along if it were worth the effort.

Now, she knew it would have been worth fighting for. And was paying for her mistake. She'd made her bed, now she'd lie in it. Her decision was to end it, and that's how it would stay.

Until she saw 'Gutterman, James, killed-in-action' on the daily list she fearfully searched everyday. Then, she knew what she had to do.

Although she had only been there less than a month, it was easy to get a last minute pass to Vella La Cava. After all, she'd done some of her best work since she'd been here. She deserved a break.

After throwing a few things into an overnight bag, she caught the first plane that was heading in that direction, her heart pounding, hoping she was doing the right thing.

* * *

Granted, Jim Gutterman did not always get along with everyone, but they were all comrades in arms, fighting the same enemy.

No one took it harder than Pappy. He stayed drunk for three straight days, and they ran the missions without him, taking turns commanding.

On the morning of the fourth day, he emerged from his tent, unshaven and unkempt. And bellowed for someone to bring him a razor.

They knew he would be alright.

The next day, he went on the mission with them. They all pointedly ignored the empty space where Jim's plane always sat, just glad to have some sort of order back in their lives, especially now that Bobby seemed to be back to his old, laid-back self. Although the sadness in his eyes never quite seemed to go completely away, at least he was back to playing jokes with the best of them.

* * *

It was noon by the time Abby landed on Vella La Cava. Nothing had changed. The planes not being flown were in pieces on the airstrip, and the mechanics, Hutch and Sarge included, were standing around them, cussing and fuming about how the pilots wore through their equipment so fast.

When he spotted her, Hutch practically bowled her over greeting her. After wrapping her in a bear hug, he remembered his protocol, let her go and gave her a salute before hugging her again.

"It's good to see you, too, Hutch," Abby laughed. It was the first time she'd laughed in ages, and it felt good.

"Abby! We sure could use your help! We have this engine that . . ."

Someone cleared his throat behind him, and Hutch backed off. "Uh, hi, Sarge."

"Hutch, if you don't get back to work, I'll kick your ass to Korea. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Hutch gave her a sheepish grin, then skittered back to his taken-apart engine.

Sarge stared at her for a minute, looking at her bag, then back to her cleanly-pressed uniform. "Comin' for a visit, Major?"

Abby didn't let him intimidate her. "I heard about Jim."

Sarge chewed on his cigar thoughtfully. "Come to offer us your condolences? Or make that Anderson kid's life a bigger hell than you've already made it? Cause you know what, Major?" He leaned down until he was at eye level with her. "I never took you for a coward, but you proved me wrong."

Abby brushed at the cigar smoke in her eyes. "I don't live by your rules, Sergeant, and I never pretend to. What I do is my business and mine alone." She smiled at him. "But, it's nice to know you actually care about your pilots at times."

Sarge huffed and puffed, but there wasn't much he could say. Cursing under his breath, he returned to his plane, shooting her dirty looks.

Abby chuckled to herself and looked around. They'd be back soon. She sat under the shade of a plane's wing, using her bag for a chair and settled in for a wait.

She was so nervous, she almost took Hutch up on his offer to work on an engine. Anything to keep her mind off what she was about to do. And Bobby's reaction to it. Would he laugh in her face? Tell her to take a hike? Larry didn't say if he was involved with someone else, and she heard from Maria there were new nurses . . . stop it! He'll be here soon enough, and then she'd have her answer.

She hoped.

* * *

She sat in the shade for a couple of hours, glad to have the off time. No one demanding anything from her. It was kind of nice, actually.

She didn't realize how relaxed she was until the distant drone of engines signaled the return of the Corsairs, startling her back to reality. Her heart started beating so quickly, she thought she was going to pass out.

Shielding her face with her hands, she watched them land, praying with every breath she took this was the right thing to do.

* * *

They all made it back. Always a good thing.

Bobby tossed his gear into the plane, then hopped down, ready for a drink. They had resumed their boisterous toasts since Pappy had started flying again.

"Hey, T.J.! Zeke almost had you today, didn't he?" Anderson called out.

T.J. made a face. "Yeah, I guess I owe you another one, don't I?"

"You sure do, Wiley!" French joined in, patting him on the back. "What does that make now? Ten times? Eleven?"

"Oh, go to hell, Don," T.J. muttered.

In one big group, they headed for the Sheep Pen, talking and laughing.

* * *

Abby saw him climb out of his plane. Saw him joking with T.J. and the others.

It shocked her that his hair had started to turn grey.

He wasn't any older than she was. This life was taking its toll. On all of them.

But, he looked happy. Happier than Casey said he was.

Was it right to impose herself on him like that? When he seemed to be getting it all back together?

And, just what was she expecting? Him to mourn her forever?

As she watched him walk away, never laying eyes on her, she wondered if she should catch the next plane back to Espirito and hide her head in the sand like an ostrich.

* * *

Sarge stepped out of nowhere in front of Bobby.

"We're you goin', boy?"

Bobby looked around, wondering what in the world he had done to deserve the ire of the company head mechanic again. He glanced sideways at French, and all he did was shrug. "I was goin' to have a drink. What's it to you?"

Sarge made a face. "You gotta visitor."

"A what?"

"Can't you hear, college boy? A visitor." Sarge motioned behind Bobby, back towards where the planes were in disrepair.

The sun was in his eyes for a moment. "I don't see anybody, Sarge. You must be . . ." He shaded his eyes with his hand. And then he saw her. Looking like she was going to bolt any second.

"Abby?"

He made a beeline for her before she did bolt for the nearest departing plane.

* * *

Abby's mouth felt so dry, it was almost like she'd spent a week in the desert. Her carefully rehearsed words died in her throat as he walked up to her, almost getting hit by a passing jeep before he made it there.

They stood staring at each other for a moment, him in his flight suit, her in her slightly dusty Class A uniform.

She didn't realize how much she'd missed him until now.

"I heard you made ace," she cleared her throat. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," he said warily. "But, did you come all the way out here for that? It's hospital business, isn't it? You're here to help out, right?" His brain couldn't quite fathom that she would be here for him after she left him a scant month ago.

It sure felt longer than that. And now that she was here, looking as lovely as ever, he wondered what exactly was going on. "Arant's been riding those girls hard, but she can't seem to find someone to replace you," he reached for her bag as he ranted.

"Bobby, stop," Abby lightly put her hand on his arm. "I'm not here for the hospital. Or even military business. I'm here on personal business."

"Oh."

She cleared her throat. "I heard about Jim."

His eyes clouded for a moment. "I was his wingman for that mission."

Abby didn't know what happened, but there were obviously some unresolved issues. "Whatever happened, don't blame yourself. It's war and crappy things happen."

"I needed you that night." He blurted it out before he realized what he'd done. And every night since she left, but he kept that thought to himself. Just opening himself up this much was hurting badly enough. He shook himself for a moment. "Is that all you came here for? To tell us you were sorry?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like Sarge."

"Gee, thanks," he crossed his arms across his chest. "What a compliment."

Abby made a face. "Don't piss me off before I get to say what I want to say."

He gestured. "Fine. Continue."

She took a deep breath. "I was wrong, Bobby, for leaving you. I've regretted it every day since I've left."

Bobby felt a ray of hope, but he kept it to himself. "If you regretted it everyday, why did you wait a whole damn month to tell me?"

"It was Casey."

"Casey?"

"Yeah, I saw him a few days ago. We talked. Had a few laughs. And, he told me what an idiot I was."

"Brave man."

"You betcha."

"But, he didn't say that in those particular words, did he? Because if he did, I'd have to kick his. . ."

"Don't get your manhood all bent out of shape. He made me realize that if you're killed, I would still take it just as badly than if we were together. So, I've basically sacrificed everything we could have for my irrational fears."

"I tried to tell you that the day you _left_! But, you were too hard-headed to listen." Bobby was talking before he thought things through, but this was turning out to be a better day than when it started.

"I guess Casey just laid it out there for me. Put it in terms that my stubborn mind could understand."

He studied her closely for a moment. "You weren't the only one learning lessons."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that after Esprito was bombed, I was frantic to find out what happened to you. Now, I know how you feel when I'm on a mission. Honestly, it stinks."

She smiled. "Glad you realize that."

"Guess we've both been learning a few things, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

That stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, the wind whipping her hair around her face. This wasn't going exactly how she thought it would, and she wasn't sure if she should shake his hand or kiss him. Had she made the right decision, or was she going to have to go back to Esprito and lick her wounds?

"Kiss her!"

They both looked up, and T.J. was grinning at them, along with the rest of the squadron.

Abby was startled when Bobby gathered her in his arms.

But, she sure as hell didn't mind it one bit.

* * *

Yes, I killed Gutterman. For some reason, it just happened that way. You know how it goes.


	31. Chapter 31

"Abby, she's asking for you. She wants to see you before she's shipped home."

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, then keyed the mike. "Carman, there's a halt to all inter-island travel since those damn bombers have started back up on us. You know that."

Nothing but static for a moment. "Don't you think we know that, Major. How do you think Maria got hurt in the first place?"

Wrong thing to say. Abby blew out a breath she was holding. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. When's she shipping out?"

"0700 tomorrow. The carrier plane will try to leave, since the bombers don't usually pick up until later in the day. They're evacuating the entire hospital."

"10-4, La Cava. See you as soon as I can." She sat down the mike with an aggravated thump.

Espirito, along with Vella La Cava and any other island in this vicinity, had been receiving more than their share of enemy attacks lately. All travel between the islands was reduced to the necessities of getting supplies back and forth, and even the carrier planes had fighter pilot escorts now.

She hadn't seen Bobby in almost two weeks. Their only contact during that time had been a few wired messages and one quick radio call a few days ago.

She knew the squadron had been flying night and day, running escort for the few planes that managed to get through, as well as taking out some of the smaller enemy planes terrorizing the area. That is, if the enemy didn't blow their planes up first on the ground. More people were getting killed on the ground than in the air.

Those bastards had even fired on the hospital, which caused Maria to lose her leg.

Abby tried not to think about that.

"Corporal, I need a ride to the airstrip!"

Her secretary jumped to attention. "Yes, ma'am, Major!"

* * *

Abby cajoled and begged and called in favors, but she finally found herself a ride in a supply plane heading to La Cava.

The pilot and co-pilot were none-to-happy about having a passenger, but Abby dismissed their irritated glances as they stomped past her seat in the back of the plane among the boxes, bags and crates, her own small overnight bag at her feet.

She'd managed to catch a flight out there, but catching a flight back might be a problem.

But, if Maria wanted to see her, she owed her oldest friend in the South Pacific that much.

And, at least she'd get a chance to see Bobby.

Abby didn't know who their escorts were, and there were no windows in the plane. It wasn't exactly designed for passengers, and there were only a few hastily-installed seats against the wall.

She shifted uncomfortably, her foot bumping into her overnight bag in the close quarters.

* * *

They ran into trouble 15 minutes from La Cava.

No one informed her of the problem, but she was almost crushed by a large crate that came hurtling her way when the plane banked starboard suddenly. Instead of the two escort planes, she now heard the buzzing of several more small engines.

She knew her engines. Zeros.

The co-pilot was talking excitedly into his mike, and Abby strained to hear what was being said as she tightened her belt, heart in her chest.

The first burst of gunfire ripped into the hull, and she stifled a scream, hunching over and making herself as small a target as possible.

Another round of gunfire, and the plane lurched, smoke filling the interior. Her eyes searched frantically until she found what she was looking for.

Only two parachutes. One for the pilot and one for the co-pilot.

Abby wished she'd stayed at home. Not on Espirito. In the States.

* * *

"Hey, Pappy! Zeros at 3 o'clock! Looks like they got some of ours under attack!"

Pappy shielded his eyes against the sun. "I see it, Anderson. How's your fuel?"

Bobby checked his gauge. "Just over 150 gallons."

"I've got 140. Let's check it out."

The fighter escort, at least the one that was left, had two Zeros on his tail. The other was long gone by then, and the supply plane was badly wounded, more Zeros swarming all around it.

"Zulu One, this is Black Sheep Six. You copy?"

"Black Sheep Six, this is Zulu One. Where the _hell_ have you been?" The co-pilot sounded harried at best.

Pappy grinned. "Looks like you boys need some help."

"We'll take anything you can give us, over."

"You heard the man, Anderson. Let's get these guys!"

"Gladly!"

Pappy immediately took out the one that was harassing the remaining escort, and the American plane limped away. Anderson immediately dispatched one of the three firing at the carrier plane.

But, there were still two more.

One of them got lucky. He used the sun to his advantage and flew towards the carrier plane, firing round after round at the cockpit.

Bullets ripped into the windows, and the injured supply plane lurched to the left and banked slowly towards the island.

"Zulu One, you read me? Zulu One, this is Black Sheep Six, over?"

No response. He and Anderson watched as it began to lose altitude.

* * *

Abby had resigned herself to the fact that one of those damn Japanese planes was going to get lucky and tear her to shreds in the back of this plane.

She didn't think about the cockpit getting hit until the last burst of enemy fire lurched the plane to the left. And it stayed towards the left.

Oh, _shit_!

By now, the air noise through the holes in the fuselage was deafening and bits of shot-up paper and wood were floating around the cabin. With shaking hands, Abby undid her seat belt, falling out of her seat and into a crate, splinters jabbing into her hands.

But, splinters would be the least of her troubles if she didn't get to the controls

Unsteady as the plane lost altitude, Abby made her way to the cockpit and tried to open the door.

Something was jammed against it.

Putting her shoulder into it and shoving with all of her might, she managed to push it open.

It was what was left of the co-pilots torso that was blocking the door.

Although she was accustomed to such sights by now, she was so panicked watching the ground get closer and closer that she almost fell to her hands and knees and gagged.

The smoke from the injured controls filling the cockpit didn't help.

With every ounce of strength she had, she shoved the body aside.

The pilot was slumped across the controls, causing the crazy flight pattern of the plane. He'd taken a bullet across the head, it seemed, and blood was everywhere. On reflex, she checked his pulse. It beat weakly once, then nothing.

There was no time for niceties. She grabbed the much larger man under the arm pits and drug him to the floor.

Wind whistled through the broken windows as she frantically studied the controls. First things first. She grabbed the control and tried to even the plane out. It responded sluggishly, but she managed to stop the lazy descent of the plane.

She wasn't out of the woods yet.

It had been years and years since she'd played in her father's plane on the ground and in the simulator on base. She struggled to remember what was what. Plus, the Japanese Zero had taken out a large chunk of the controls, and most of the panels were broken beyond repair.

She had to have help landing this thing.

With one hand still on the stick, she managed to snatch the mike from around the co-pilots head. Ignoring the stickiness of his blood, she put it on best she could.

* * *

Pappy shook his head. "Well, looks like we lost Zulu."

Anderson watched the plane rapidly approaching the ground. "We did all we could, Pappy."

Pappy cursed in response.

When the plane suddenly leveled off, engines smoking, neither one knew what to say.

"Zulu One this is Black Sheep Six, you alright in there? Do you copy Zulu One?"

No answer.

Pappy made a decision. "Anderson, you keep trying to raise them. I'll go in closer and take a look." Pappy headed down towards the plane to see what was going on.

Anderson did as he was told, surprised someone would even still be alive in that thing. "Zulu One, this is Black Sheep Three, do you copy? Zulu One?"

There was a burst of static, and what Anderson heard next made his blood run cold.

"Bobby? Bobby, is that you?"

His eyes strayed to the picture propped just above his controls. He hoped he was wrong. He prayed he was wrong.

He banked his plane to follow Pappy.

* * *

Abby looked around frantically, but she didn't see him. Maybe she was closer to La Cava than she thought, and he was on the ground.

Maybe she was hallucinating and this was all a bad dream.

"_Abby_?" He sounded uncertain, disbelieving.

Abby keyed the mike quickly, her fingers slipping on the blood on the button. "Bobby, the pilot and co-pilot are dead."

* * *

He hadn't misheard. It was her.

Son of a _bitch_!

"What in the _hell_ are you doing on that plane?" She knew better than to get up in the air now, especially with the Japanese swarming like they were! Didn't she?

Apparently not.

Abby didn't have time to answer.

"Sorry to interrupt, folks, but we've got a problem. Your starboard engine is down, and it looks like you're leaking fuel."

"Gee, thanks, Greg. You know how to make a girl feel better." Abby answered.

Pappy had to smile. She could still be sassy, even now, although her voice was a little wobbly.

But, Bobby was having none of it. "Abby, you've got to parachute out! You can't land that thing!"

Abby thought to the bullet-riddled interior behind her. She swallowed hard. "Both chutes are shot up."

It was silent over the radio for a moment, the only sound the sputtering of the remaining dying engine.

"Looks like you'll have to land it, then," Pappy said matter-of-factly.

It didn't hit Abby until then the gravity of this situation. Her hand started shaking so badly, that the iron grip she had on the controls caused the plane to move back and forth more than she intended.

Overcorrecting, she pushed the stick too far to the left. The remaining engine sputtered loudly in protest.

Finally, she got it under control, sweat trickling down her forehead.

"You alright, Major?" Pappy asked.

This time, there was no bravado. No sassy comments. Abby didn't even think she could talk, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth in fear.

"Abigail? Say something, baby." It was Bobby.

Her vision blurred through the cracked windshield, and Abby tried to mentally talk herself out of her tears. She could feel the panic building in her chest, threatening to drive her mad with fear. But, it wouldn't help her at all.

"Bobby, I'm scared."

* * *

_You aren't the only one, sweetheart._

By now, Bobby had come alongside the plane and could see her in the pilot's seat.

He almost had to see for himself that she was really behind the controls.

Her comment tore at his heart.

"I know you are, baby. I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you."

He hoped he wasn't lying.


	32. Chapter 32

Counting this one, only 4 more chapters to go!

* * *

Desperately, Abby searched the skies. He was where he said he was. Next to her right wing.

Although she couldn't make him out clearly, just knowing he was there calmed her. She took a deep breath, then another, trying to get a grip on her emotions.

She wanted to throw him a little wave, but she was too afraid to let go of the controls.

* * *

Bobby thought frantically. There had to be a way to get her out of there without her actually having to land that wounded bird.

"You ever flown before, Major?" Pappy asked calmly.

"Not exactly. Only a simulator. And, I was eleven years old." Her voice was stronger now, not so shaky.

Good, she was going to need all the grit she could muster.

Pappy sighed. "It's better than nothing. I want you to look for the altimeter. Tell me what it says."

Abby scanned the wounded controls. "5,000 feet."

"What about fuel?"

"It's . . . uh . . . gone, Greg."

Pappy sighed. "What I want you to do is find the little lever and dump the remaining fuel. We're coming up on La Cava, and you need to get rid of anything that's flammable. Anderson, switch to base frequency and put out a mayday. Tell them a wounded plane is coming in."

Abby didn't need to be told twice.

Neither did Bobby. "La Cava, this is Black Sheep Three. We have a wounded carrier plane that needs to make an emergency landing. Do you copy?"

Casey came back loud and clear. "La Cava. We've already prepared."

They'd heard over the radio. They knew.

Bobby tried not to look at his shaking hands.

* * *

"You find the lever yet?"

"Uh . . . yeah. I think. What's left of it. Do you want me to dump it now?"

"Not yet. Next, I want you to find the landing gear controls."

Abby felt a chill up her spine. She stared at the gaping hole where the landing gear knobs were supposed to be. "They're gone."

* * *

Bobby banged on his control panel in frustration. "Greg, we've _got_ to get her out of there!"

"Unless you want her to jump with no chute, I don't think she has any choice but to land that thing."

"But, _I_ can't even land one with no landing gear. Have you?"

"Yeah. Piece of cake."

"But . . ." Anderson wanted to argue this problem away, but it wasn't happening. He knew, deep down inside, the only choice she had was to put it down.

"Anderson, listen to me. Go on to La Cava. Make sure they understand the gravity of the situation and that they're prepared."

"I am not leaving her up here!"

"Dammit, Anderson, there's nothing you can _do_ up here! I'll stay with her and talk her down."

"But . . ."

"Go! And that's an order!" The last thing Pappy needed was a panicked pilot on his hands. He wanted Bobby on the ground and out of that Corsair before he watched his woman go down in flames.

"Bobby, go. Greg's right. There's nothing you can do."

Tears stung Bobby's eyes, surprising him, at the sound of her voice. He angrily wiped them away. Despite the situation, she was trying to soothe his troubled mind. "I don't like it, Abigail."

"You'll be waiting for me when I . . . I'm on the ground." She was bound to crash. There was no way out of it. But, she just couldn't voice those words aloud.

All was silent for a moment, and she wondered if he'd even received her last transmission.

"I love you, baby." His voice was gruff and full of emotion.

Abby felt a lump in her throat. "I love you more."

His plane surged ahead, and Abby watched it go.

It didn't strike her as amusing that she had been so worried about him dying in a plane crash when she was the one who was going to . . .

Pappy's voice interrupted her maudlin thoughts. "OK, Major. Here's what I want you to do . . ."

* * *

Bobby didn't even wait until his plane had completely powered down before he was out of it and on the ground.

And immediately surrounded by his fellow pilots. "Is it really . . ."

"Yes, Jerry, it really is," he said distractedly, scanning the horizon. They weren't far behind him. He pointed at an orderly. "You! Get those damn fire extinguishers out here, _on the double_!"

The orderly jumped to comply.

"And, you! Go tell Casey to call the hospital!" Bobby was giving orders like a pro, although he never had before.

A hand was on his arm. "Bobby, you've got to calm down. Casey already radioed the hospital, and they're sending someone now." It was Don French.

Bobby jerked his arm out of his friend's grasp, reaching for an extinguisher. "I will not _calm_ down! Not until she is on the ground and out of that _goddamned_ plane! Now, are you going to help me carry this stupid thing or not?"

French didn't say anything else, just helped Bobby as the air sirens signaling a wounded plane wailed.

* * *

Abby went over the plan in her head. _Dump fuel. Get to 100 feet. Lower it slowly. When the runway was in sight, drop it down. It will skid out of control. Make sure seat belt is fastened. But, make sure you can get out of it in a hurry._

The way Pappy said it in such a calm, clear voice convinced her she could do it. But, when the airstrip came into sight, her composed mind almost fell apart.

Abby shut her eyes for a moment, surprised to realize that life really _does_ flash before your eyes.

"Major? Abby? You ready?"

With a shaking hand, Abby reached for the fuel lever, pulling it out. The last engine sputtered and died. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The only sound was her heart beating in her head. Other than that, it was quiet without the engine noise, the wind whistling through the cracked windshield.

_Father who art in Heaven, hallowed by they name . . ._

* * *

The plane appeared on the horizon, smoke trailing from the injured engine. Pappy's Corsair was just overhead, out of harms way. A trail of fuel ran from the second engine, and only the sound of Pappy's Corsair filled the air.

Bobby thought he was going to be sick.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of the plane, wobbling slightly, as it headed towards its doom on the runway.

* * *

_. . . Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven . . ._

Abby didn't want to watch.

_I hope no one on the ground gets hurt. I hope I don't suffer. I hope there's no fire. Maybe it will be quick. _

_I hope Bobby can take it. _

As the ground loomed closer, she tried to feather the stick just like Pappy had said. But, right before she made impact, she clamped her eyes shut.

_I hope . . ._

The plane hit the runway, the quiet replaced by the sound of screeching metal. Abby's restraints jerked her forward and back violently, and for a moment, she wondered briefly if her head would be snatched off her body.

* * *

All they could do on the ground was watch helplessly as she sat it down at the beginning of the runway. It ripped its belly to shreds as it veered straight, then to the left into the trees as it quickly lost speed.

One of the wings snapped off as it leaned crazily to one side and fire erupted from the plane as something it was carrying – something flammable – exploded.

Bobby was running before it even skidded to a stop.

* * *

Abby must have blacked out, her hands still clutching the stick because when she opened her eyes, the cock pit was filled with smoke.

All she could see in front of her was trees and more trees.

But, she was alive!

Hot _damn_, she was _alive_!

The explosion dampened her enthusiasm, practically shaking the fillings from her teeth. As quickly as she could, she snatched off the restraints.

Since all the smoke was billowing from behind her, leaving the plane by the lone door was impossible.

She had to go out the window.

Frantically searching as the flames grew closer, she groped for the pilot's pistol. They all carried them, and his was still in the holster.

She pointed it at the window closest to her and emptied all the bullets into it.

At first, Bobby thought that ammunition on the plane was exploding in the heat.

The door was completely engulfed in flames. He tried to peer through the smoke into the cock pit and saw movement.

She was shooting out the window.

God help her, he had to get her out of there!

* * *

The glass didn't shatter.

With a sob, she did the only thing she could do. Using the butt of the pistol as a club, she beat on the window.

The glass shattered into a million pieces, and she knocked out most of the rough edges.

She didn't even wait to see what she was jumping into. She didn't even know how far away the ground was.

As the flames crept up behind her, she climbed out the window, cutting her arms and legs and flung herself out.

* * *

She wasn't as far up as she thought. The plane had tilted towards the ground on this side, she when she hit the ground, it couldn't have been more than 10 feet.

Someone was there, practically picking her up and carrying her away from the burning plane.

It was Bobby.

Abby wanted to say something, but the plane chose that moment to explode again, this time completely engulfing itself, knocking them to the ground.

Bobby didn't miss a beat. He had her on her feet in no time.

Before she gathered her wits about her, she was sitting on the bumper of the ambulance, orderlies looking her over for injuries as the ground crew fought the fire that had once been her ride to La Cava.


	33. Chapter 33

Bobby stood nearby, arms crossed across his chest. His stance was more to mask his shaking hands than anything else.

His first instinct had been to pull her against him as they sat on the ground after the plane exploded and weep like a child.

She'd almost died, but all he could do was watch carefully as the orderlies looked her over, taking deep, even breaths, trying to calm his pounding heart.

Bobby didn't realize how tightly coiled he was until one of the orderlies roughly tried to swipe pieces of glass out of a wound on her arm. Abby winced and drew back, but didn't make a sound, although tears sprang to her eyes, threatening to make tracks down her dirty face.

Before Bobby realized what he was doing, he grabbed the guy and flung him against the side of the ambulance.

"Don't you _ever_ hurt her like that again, you understand?" Bobby was up in the guy's face, who looked more than a little surprised.

"I . . . I didn't mean . . ."

"It's going to hurt, no matter what he does. Bobby?" She was next to him. When she reached out to touch his arm, he jumped, so intense was he on getting the orderly to stop causing her any more pain.

He loosened his grip on the man's coat. Finding his chance, the man escaped, skittering out of his reach.

But, Bobby found he was still angry. He propped both hands against the side of the ambulance and stared at his filthy boots, breathing unsteadily. He could feel her eyes on him, as well as the stares from some of the others who were not caught up in putting out the still-burning hulk of metal that had been the supply plane.

He was angry at himself for being so irrational. Angry because he couldn't do anything, just watch helplessly as she had to land the plane all by herself.

Angry at those Japanese Zeros for wounding her plane, putting her in that situation to begin with. Hurting her. Almost killing her.

And angry at her.

She touched him again. "Bobby, are you . . ."

He snatched his arm away from her. "What in the _hell_ were you doing up there?"

She took a step back, stung and surprised. "It was Maria. They were shipping her out, and she wanted to see me . . ."

"You could have had her shipped to Espirito! Hell, you could have seen her back in the States for that matter!"

Despite her wounds and her shock over the situation, he could see the disbelief on her face, turning quickly to irritation. But, he was too livid to care. "You _know_ how dangerous it is right now! It's practically forbidden for personnel to travel between the islands. But did you follow the rules? _Noooo_!" He ran his hand through his hair as he ranted.

"So, it's OK for you to break the rules because you're a Black Sheep, and that's what Black Sheep do. But, it's _not_ OK for me to take a short flight to see a friend who will be a cripple _for life, _is that it?"

"You could have been killed!"

"_You_ do it everyday!"

"It's . . . different!" He dropped his voice a bit, realizing they were drawing a crowd. "I know that you're on the ground at Esprito, safe and sound. I can sleep at night knowing you're there. I fight to keep you safe over there. You should have _stayed_ over there!"

He saw the tears in her eyes and saw her fight to keep them at bay. She raised her chin defiantly. "We're not rehashing this. Not now. But, remember that I _don't_ need to ask your permission to do _anything_ . . . _ever_! You cannot and _will not_ mold me into whatever it is you have in your mind that a woman is supposed to be . . ."

"You're _supposed_ to be smart enough to stay out of the way of Japanese Zeros!" He couldn't help himself. It made him even angrier each time he thought about it.

Abby couldn't help herself, either. "Since the only female roll model you have is a woman who lets herself get beat daily, I _don't_ think you're in _any_ place to tell me how I'm _supposed_ to act!"

If she had punched him in the nose again, he couldn't have looked more shocked. And for a moment, judging him by the expression on his face, she thought he might actually hit her.

And, she immediately regretted bringing up his mother.

But, damned if she'd let him know.

She stalked by him, climbing into the cab of the ambulance, slamming the door so hard, the large truck shuddered.

The man behind the wheel took one look at her and decided he didn't want to argue. Without saying a word, he cranked the ambulance, and they were soon zooming towards what was left of the hospital.

* * *

Maria was trying to keep her own spirits up. "They've come a long way with prosthetics, you know, and now no one can say anything when I wear all those cute little pants suits and not dresses."

There wasn't anything Abby felt she could say. She could tell her friend was struggling, and who wouldn't be? Maria had been babbling like this since Abby had her cuts stitched and bandaged and found her in the mostly empty ward. The staff was packing everything up to evacuate.

Abby realized Maria had asked her a question. "Uh . . . sorry? What was that?"

"I said did you really land that plane? By yourself?"

Abby didn't want to talk about it. It was trivial compared to what Maria was going through. "Major Boyington walked me through it. But, yeah it was just me."

Maria seemed glad for something else to talk about besides her own troubles. "Was it awful as it sounds?"

Abby thought about the terror at thinking she was going to die in that already-blood soaked cockpit, the sound of screeching metal as the plane touched down, the stench of smoke and burning flesh. "Yeah, it was pretty bad."

"You don't look too banged up."

Abby had to borrow some clothes from one of the other nurses, just shorts and a shirt. Her uniform was too dirty and mangled to even attempt to put back on. Antiseptic covered the smaller scratches, and there was one large bandage wrapped around her right arm where the doctor had to dig out imbedded slivers of glass. The side of her right thigh also required a couple of stitches. "I think it looks worse than it feels."

Maria was silent for a moment, and Abby could tell she was trying to formulate the words. "How's Bobby?" she finally asked.

Abby took a deep breath, surprised at the tears that tried to spring to her eyes. "Angry. At me for coming out here. Putting myself in that situation." And for bad-mouthing his mother.

"Well, it's not like you _knew_ that was going to happen. What are you, a seer or something?"

Abby managed a chuckle. "It's aggravating that he can fly all over these skies, but I can't take a supply plane for a one-hour ride."

Maria looked at her funny for a moment. "He just loves you. He worries about you."

"Well, yelling at me while I'm bleeding and my plane's burning sure shows it," Abby mumbled.

"I think you hit on something out there, though. He doesn't know how to show people he loves them. He's never exactly had good examples of that."

Abby should have known the entire confrontation would have already reached Maria by now. The gossip chain never failed to amaze her. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't. I just hope . . ." Maria teared up, surprising Abby. She hadn't seen tears yet from her injured friend.

Abby handed her a tissue, and she wiped her eyes. "I just hope I find someone who'll love me like that. Especially now that I'm . . ." she didn't finish her sentence, just motioned to the empty spot beneath the blanket where her leg should be.

Abby was glad she was crying. This, she could handle. "That's a bunch of hooey, and you know it. If I guy doesn't love you for you, then you wouldn't want him anyway."

"It's going to be hard enough to do this on my own, but the thought I might spend the rest of my life alone . . . well, it's scary." Maria sniffed and blew her nose.

"Like you said, you can do most of the same things you could do before . . . this happened."

"Except maybe dance."

Maria always loved to dance. Abby grasped her friend's hands in hers. "You can even do that. The only one stopping you from doing anything is you. Promise me you'll at least try?"

Maria patted Abby's hands familiarly. "I'm glad you're here, Abs. Even if you almost killed yourself visiting me."

Abby smiled at her, genuinely this time. "Hey, you're worth it. Good friends are hard to find."

The wailing of the siren signaling the arrival of enemy bombers interrupted their conversation.

Maria went so pale, Abby thought she might pass out.

Ever efficient, Abby hustled her into a wheelchair before the nurse on-duty could bustle into the empty ward. She had her in a bomb shelter right as the first bomb hit on the other side of the island.

Maria was shaking so badly, Abby held her close as the bombs and shots droned on, the Japanese hitting in wave after wave. Usually, the presence of the red cross on the roof kept them relatively safe, but lately, the Japanese had been unusually ruthless.

"I'm so sorry," Maria whispered, rubbing her tear-stained cheeks on Abby's shirt. "It's just that . . . that . . ."

Abby shushed her, trying not to jump when a fighter plane zoomed low, his guns blazing. "There's nothing to apologize for."

The next sound they heard were the Corsairs taking off after them.

Abby felt like shedding a few tears herself.

* * *

They didn't stay gone long. By the time the nurses emerged from the makeshift bomb shelter and resumed packing, the Corsairs had returned.

Abby decided to make herself useful and helped Arant and the girls pack crate after crate of supplies, charts and other hospital flotsam. It kept her busy. Kept her mind off her mistakes. She didn't think about the future or the past. Just where to put these extra linens and how many tongue depressors did they really need to take with them. Mundane things. Safe things.

In other words, not Bobby.

* * *

No one dared approach him. Especially after he practically jumped down T.J.'s throat when T.J. asked if there was anything he could do. By now, everyone knew what had happened, but Bobby was clearly not in the mood to talk about it, especially when he snarled at anyone that even appeared to want to say anything.

They all went after the Zeroes, dispatched a few of them, then had to return to La Cava because of imminent darkness.

Bobby would have enjoying taking the lot of them out of the skies, but was smart enough to realize his anger would only get him killed. And others, too.

So, obediently, he returned to La Cava with the others.

When he landed, he was careful to avoid looking at the burnt-out hull of the carrier plane in a little patch of woods near the runway.

The acrid smell of smoke still hung about the camp. So, he couldn't totally avoid the situation.

As he stomped to his tent, stripping off flight gear as he went, he tried his best not to think about it at all. There wasn't anything he could do. What was said, was said. What was done, was done.

He knew he had no right to be angry at her. None of it was her fault. She did the absolute best she could have done in a bad situation, and that's all, as humans, they could ask for.

But, her comment about his mother was more than a slap in the face. Did he deserve it? Maybe. But, what disturbed him the most was he was afraid she was right. Not just about his mother, but his father.

What did his father do when something didn't go his way? He got mad. And struck out at whoever was nearby.

Bobby grew up with this, had to live with it and vowed never to be that way.

But, what did he do today when something didn't go his way?

He got mad.

No, he didn't physically hit her. Although for one split second, he thought about it. But, just the thought that he would become so irate over something Abby couldn't help one bit made him realize something about himself, something he had never thought about before.

Maybe he was more like his father than he thought.

* * *

They continued to leave him alone at supper.

He couldn't much blame them, then way he'd been stewing all day. He still felt like a tightly wound spring. His life was suddenly off-kilter, and it disturbed him.

His pride wouldn't let him seek out Abby. Although, he did make sure what was left of the hospital had survived the latest attack.

Honestly, he didn't know what to say to her, anyway.

Plus, he was still angry. More at himself. But, now that he'd come to the realization that his father's genes could rear their ugly heads, he actually thought he might be afraid. Afraid that he'd hurt her, that one day she'd look at him with the same loathing and hatred that his own mother had for his father.

It didn't mean he loved her any less. If anything, he needed her more now to convince him he was not like that at all. But, today, he'd failed her. He'd lashed out at her when she needed her most.

He saw it in the eyes of his friends and fellow pilots when he'd catch them staring, and they'd look away.

He just didn't know how to make it right.

* * *

Every muscle in her body ached. Between trying to land a wounded plane – was that really just a few hours before? – and pushing her body to the limits helping the La Cava nurses pack up all the supplies and belongings, her bones were screaming for rest.

Her heart had its share of bruises, too, but she tried not to think about that.

She almost went for a swim, but since her lone bag was burned to a crisp, she decided against it. No need to get the only borrowed clothes that she had wet. Plus, skinny-dipping was out of the question with so many men running around this island.

Although it hadn't stopped her and Bobby before.

Needing a break, Abby went for a walk. On instinct, she found herself heading towards the lagoon she had claimed as hers.

Realizing what she was doing, she veered away, wandering around the camp without any destination in mind.

Since she was no longer fiercely busy, her mind starting churning.

Stupid mind. That's why she kept busy in the first place, to avoid these things!

She found herself on the beach. It was hard to believe just a few months before, she was sitting right here, minding her own business, when Bobby took it upon himself to bully his way into her life.

She was engaged to someone else. Her life was all mapped out for her, just waiting for her to dive right in.

And, most importantly, her brother was still alive.

Abby tried not to think about Jimmy too often because all it did was make her sad. Here, it was easy to push the memories aside because Jimmy wasn't a part of her life here.

At home, Abby knew it would be a different story. Every time she saw Johnny, she'd think about him. The two were inseparable.

Johnny hadn't come to grips with it, either. He was serving his third term in the Navy in the South Pacific, but he stayed drunk more often than not. Her father was having a rough time keeping it quiet.

Abby wished she could see him. If anything, she could understand his pain.

Pain. Now there's a relative word. We work so hard to ease others pain, but sometimes all we can do is inflict it. With weapons and words.

Sure, maybe she shouldn't have been on that carrier plane, but she knew the risks. Just like Bobby knew the cost each time he fastened himself into that damned tin can they dared to call a plane.

She didn't know why she'd felt the need to jab at him like that, using his family history as a weapon. He had confided in her, just like she had with him, and all she did was use it against him.

Some person she was, huh?

It wasn't like she only inherited the best traits from her parents, either. She could be stubborn and unruly and just as soon throw a punch when she was angry than walk away.

A couple was walking along the beach, hand-in-hand, so Abby faded back into the woods, not wanting to be seen.

Plus, she had another destination in mind. She had to make this right.


	34. Chapter 34

French hummed to himself as he read the letter from his mother for the fifth time.

Hell, any mail at all was a miracle in and of itself!

Due to the fact that the enemy planes could see the lights from their tents, all flaps were ordered kept shut at night. As a result, it could get rather stifling. Once they turned out the lights, thought, most of them opened them back up to allow the breeze to flow through.

But, French wasn't quite ready for lights out yet. He pulled out a sheet of paper and started his reply to his mother, still humming.

"Would you shut _up_?" Bobby had his arm thrown over his eyes as he lay on his cot.

French thought he was asleep. Normally, he would now start singing at the top of his lungs, but the way Bobby had been acting since his woman landed that plane made him just stop making noise all together. No use poking the proverbial lion with a stick.

* * *

For some reason, Abby was near tears by the time she got to his tent.

She never cried before she came to this godforsaken place!

There was a small bit of light coming through a hole in the burlap, so she wiped her eyes, squared her shoulders and knocked on one of the wooden supports, since there was no door.

* * *

"Jesus! Can't a guy get any sleep around here?" Bobby complained, shifting in the cot.

"I wouldn't call what you've been doing sleeping. More like moping."

"Go to hell." He flopped onto his stomach and covered his head with his pillow.

Don shrugged. "Enter at your own risk," he called out, smirking when he heard Bobby mutter.

Abby threw back the tent flap and stepped inside. She looked hesitant, which was something French had never known her to be. But, they'd exchanged harsh words out there, so he couldn't much blame her.

Don admired her figure for a moment. The shorts and shirt she borrowed were from a nurse with a smaller frame. Plus, Bobby wasn't paying any attention. If he was, he'd probably break his nose for looking. He leaned back in his chair as it groaned in protest. "I knew it was you."

Abby cleared her throat, glancing nervously at Bobby's still form in his cot. "How?"

Bobby raised his head at the sound of her voice, his pillow hitting the floor.

"Because the guys wouldnt've knocked."

His attempt at levity went unnoticed. They only had eyes for each other.

Bobby struggled to his feet wearing his usual bedtime attire: boxers and an ancient uniform shirt, one arm almost completely ripped away.

Abby had seen him in it before. She thought it made him look like a lost little boy instead of the man she knew he was.

Instead of fuming, which is what Bobby had done all day, Don was surprised. Bobby actually looked . . . well . . . relieved. And lost. All at the same time.

Who knew some dame could have that kind of power?

"Well, kiddos," Don said grabbing his beer, his notepad and his mother's letter, "since I'm the third wheel in this tent, I'll just mosey on down to the Sheep's Pen and find me a poker game." He patted Abby on the shoulder as he sauntered by. "Good job today. We might make a pilot out of you yet."

"No thanks. I think I'll stay on the ground." She gave him a small smile, which he returned.

"Hey, Don?"

"Yeah?" Don looked over his shoulder at his bunk mate.

"Thanks," Bobby said solemnly.

Don threw him a half-assed salute, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

They could hear him whistling a jaunty little tune all the way to the Sheep Pen.

Bobby and Abby stared at each other for a moment after Don's little tune faded away.

Abby didn't want to talk about it. She was tired of it. It was an issue they had lived with in the past and would probably always have to deal with as long as they were together.

And that was just it. Who knew how long they'd be together? Today could have been it. Her remains would have been scraped out of that plane and sent home to her mother, her poor mother who had already lost one child to this war, one she didn't even get to bury properly.

But, she wasn't dead. She was alive. Very much so. And, she wanted to prove it to herself, to feel and touch and use all her senses to their fullest abilities. She didn't even know if he still wanted her.

She took a deep breath, making up her mind.

* * *

Bobby didn't know what he was expecting. Tears? More shouting? The way things had gone today, he even wondered if she was going to tell him to take a long walk off a short pier.

But, apparently, she had other things in mind.

Honestly, he didn't mind at all.

Craving for a comforting touch in a world that threatened to wipe them from the face of the earth, they sank onto his Army-issue cot as it groaned under the weight of two people.

Quicker than he thought possible, he had her out of her too-small clothes and entered her, rougher than he meant to be. He _had_ to feel something other than the helplessness he had endured all day.

She almost cried out, and realizing what he was doing, he tried to back off, although he really didn't want to.

She didn't want him too either, griping him tightly, her fingernails clawing into his back.

In one fell swoop, they climaxed together and lay there, panting, their bodies soaked with sweat in the stifling tent.

But, they didn't care.

Desperately, they clung to each other, the intense emotions from earlier in the day taunting them in the darkness, reminding them that as mere mortals, death would mock them from every corner, no matter how long or hard they loved each other.

Bobby watched her even breathing, the blanket rising and falling slowly as she slept. A soft breeze drifted through the now-opened tent, and a few errant brown hairs floated across her face.

But, she didn't even notice, curled up on her side, arms underneath her. Wearing nothing but his shirt, which just about swallowed her whole, she looked so . . . so . . .

Helpless. Fragile. Like any small bit of pressure would make her fall to pieces.

But, that was not true. That he knew. Hell, the scratches he knew were on his back would attest to that.

He propped his feet carefully on the cot, careful not to wake her. He steepled his fingers together and leaned against them, watching. Thinking.

They still hadn't discussed anything. They had lain there for awhile, not talking, curled around each other, drawing strength from each other's presence, until her breathing had become deep and even.

Bobby figured the whole situation might be one of those things that just got swept under the rug. But, now that he had that monster out of the closet, he just couldn't get it back in.

He heard the tent rustle behind him and figured it was French. God bless him, he'd given them more than enough time together, and they still hadn't settled anything.

But, it wasn't French.

Pappy cleared his throat. "I wanted to tell her that I found her a flight back to Esprito tomorrow morning. It'll actually be on the plane carrying the La Cava hospital staff outta here, so it'll be a tight fit."

"Thanks." Bobby was sitting with his back to his commanding officer, but he was having a hard time taking his eyes off her as she slept, a little oasis of calm in this crazy place.

Abby never moved.

Bobby didn't even realize Pappy was still there until he spoke again. "Everything OK? I mean, I know she's here, but . . ."

"I almost lost her, Greg." Bobby was surprised how raw with emotion his voice sounded, even to his own ears. He clasped his eyes shut, glad Pappy couldn't see him so close to tears.

"But, you didn't," Pappy pointed out sensibly.

Bobby rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "It doesn't make it easier to swallow. And, I'm . . . I'm . . ."

"You can't protect her here, so what makes you think you can protect her anywhere else?"

Bobby shouldn't have been surprised that Pappy understood. There wasn't much he didn't.

"It's not just that. Once she was safe, all I did was lash out at her another way." He planted his feet on the floor and turned in the chair to face his friend. "How can I even expect to protect her from the obvious enemy when I can't even protect her from myself? From my family? From what I'm apparently destined to be despite any . . .any effort on my part whatsoever?"

Pappy really seemed to think about what he said. "Remember when I told you on the beach that time to stay away from her? That she was only trouble?"

Bobby looked wary. "Yeah?"

Pappy grinned. "Well, I was right, wasn't I?"

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"But, I was also wrong. She might be trouble, but there's two kinds of trouble – the kind that's worth it and the kind that isn't. She's the kind that's worth it."

"If she's worth it, how come all I do is fail? Can I ever do anything _right _when it comes to her?" He started making a list, ticking them off one by one with his fingers. "I can't protect her from the Japanese on this island or in the air. She has to get herself out of it. Her father _loathes_ me, and I'm sure her brothers won't be far behind. And, I can't . . ." He stopped when he realized he was getting louder than he needed.

"Have you stopped to think that it's not your job to protect her? It's your job to love her, to be there for her when those things happen. We're all human, and all of us will have bad things happen sooner or later. But, it's a wonderful thing to have someone there to go through it with."

All Bobby could do was let it all sink in.

* * *

The voices were on the edge of her conscious, and she tried to ignore them and sink back into blissful sleep.

But, Bobby wasn't curled up against her anymore.

He was somewhere because she could hear him talking loudly.

Abby stirred and raised her head.

When she saw Major Boyington, she was glad she had thrown on Bobby's shirt.

Bobby was upset. He fidgeted just like he was doing when something was bothering him.

Abby sat up, concerned and listened, catching the major's last comment.

"Greg's right, you know."

When she spoke, Bobby stood up abruptly and went to stand on the other side of the tent, not facing either one of them.

Abby wondered if she'd said the wrong thing. Maybe she'd misunderstood. After all, she was half asleep.

Briefly, she wondered if they could have a relationship based only on sex. They did that well. Communicating? Not so much.

Abby, hair tousled from sleep and sex, looked from Bobby's back to Greg questioningly.

Pappy smiled at her, trying to ease her worries. "I got you a very small piece of plane to ride back on to Espirito tomorrow."

"Oh. Thanks." _Is that what had Bobby so upset?_

He moved towards the tent entrance. "You enjoy the rest of your evening. Although," his eyes took on a mischievous glint, "I don't think Anderson's back can handle much more of you."

Abby gave Greg a dirty look, but he was gone, laughing as he went.

Bobby was still staring intently out the other side of the tent, back straight, unmoving.

Suddenly, Abby wished Greg were still here. Maybe he could serve as a liaison between her and Bobby.

Was he going to dump her? Was he still angry about earlier? What was going on?

Abby didn't know what to do. So, she just sat there, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For the first time, she realized just how upset he was. Her first instinct was to go to him, wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be OK.

But, was it really? And, is that what he wanted? What if he . . . he shoved her away?

She couldn't take that. Not now.

All she could do was watch him as he stood with his back to her, wondering what would happen next.

When he turned around, finally, she realized she was wrong.

Not once since she'd known him had she ever seen him shed a tear.

Before she realized it, he was crumpled on the floor in front of her, his head in her lap, sobbing, babbling something about being sorry for being angry and that he couldn't help it and probably never could and he never wanted her to look at him like his mother looked at his father.

Abby didn't know what to say, she ran her fingers through his hair, saying any soothing words she could think of, shedding a few of her own tears.

They sat like that for a long time.


	35. Chapter 35

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." The military padre had seen it all. This was his second wedding this week, and it was only Tuesday.

It was a bright sunny day on Esprito. The war was over, and the military was slowly, but surely returning home. Back to their normal, everyday lives filled with normal, everyday occurrences.

Bobby and Abby couldn't wait that long.

She threw her arms around his neck, and after a long kiss that had everyone in attendance whistling and applauding, she threw her makeshift bouquet of wildflowers into the small crowd.

Casey caught it and waved it over his head victoriously as the crowd laughed.

Their friends, at least the ones that hadn't been sent home, crowded in around them.

Since she showed up on Vella La Cava, they spent all the time they could together. It was difficult, being that she was on Esprito, but she never regretted taking the position. Now that she added that to her already impressive resume, she was ready to find a high-level nursing position at any of the premier hospitals back in the States.

When Bobby proposed to her, dropping on one knee on the beach during one hurried visit to Vella La Cava, she didn't even hesitate. He had become a part of her, and she knew she could never willingly give that up.

They talked often of the future, and Bobby thought he might want to try his hand at professional photography. There was lots of money to be made in a booming business, especially now that soldiers were returning from war, wanting to settle down and expand their families.

Plus, he could do it anywhere. Where ever she found a position was fine to him.

He thought he'd miss being a pilot, but secretly, Abby was glad he didn't want to continue that line of work.

At first, they were going to wait until they got back to the states to get married, but one day, after everyone on La Cava was sent to Esprito, they woke up, looked at each other and decided they couldn't wait another moment to start their lives together.

Johnny had even made it to the small impromptu ceremony to give her away. He liked Bobby, although he was a Marine. But, hey, at least he was a fellow pilot!

Her father had not approved, but Bobby said he was willing to take that chance.

Christmas would never be boring, that's for sure.

* * *

Well, folks . . . that - as they say - is that. Thanks to all who read and reviewed! And thanks to all who just read, too (I KNOW you're out there. Bwahaha!). Don't know which poor souls I'm going to torture next, but I'll pop up in some fanfiction world soon. Ciao, baby!


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